Inescapable Reality
by incense and peppermints
Summary: The second half of seventh grade holds new struggles and new friendships for Julia Randle. *Landslide's sequel*
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Hey everyone! Welcome new and old readers of the series. :) This is Landslide's sequel, so if you haven't read that, go read now. Otherwise, I do hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

_Thursday, November 3rd, 1966_

Dad once told me I should be happy I was young and enjoy it while it lasted. Maybe that was why he treated me like I was a little girl, but I still wanted to be older. Being twelve was awful. I was stuck in a small child's body with an adult brain. If I told that to an adult, they'd laugh at me and tell me I was being silly, but it really did seem that way sometimes…

I knew more about life than people gave me credit for, but because I looked young, no one trusted me. Not Steve, not Dad, not even Angela.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to imagine myself with curves, but what I saw was as flat as a ruler in every direction. My hair was getting frizzier—did puberty do that to the hair on the top of your head too? Because then I could at least have boobs to look forward to by the end of this craziness… I didn't want big ones; small ones would be fine. I just didn't want to look like I belonged in fourth grade anymore.

Scowling at myself, I combed my fingers through my hair, shoving the strands into different hairstyles. There was a cute style Angela a showed me a couple weeks ago. She said it'd make me look grown up, but I couldn't remember for the life of me what it was, and the more I tried to work with my hair, the frizzier it got.

"For the love of Christ and all that is holy, nobody cares what your hair looks like." Steve banged his fist against the door. "C'mon, let's go already…"

"I'll be out in a minute," I called back.

He knocked harder, and much to my surprise and his, it swung open.

I groaned and tossed my hairbrush at him. It bounced off his arm and hit the floor, and by the way he started laughing, there was no way it hurt him as much as I'd hoped. "Glory, Steve." I shook my head. If the lock quit working, this was gonna be awful inconvenient in the future. "What if I was naked or somethin'?" I tried to shoo him away, but he planted his feet firmly in the doorway.

"The water wasn't running," he said. "And it ain't like I knew my fist was gonna unjam the door. Guess I'm tougher than I think, huh?"

He had a smug smirk across his lips.

"You wish." I punched his arm, and he shoved me back.

I stumbled a bit and lurched down to pick my brush off the floor.

He peered down at me. "Jesus, Julia, will ya just hurry up? No one cares what you look like."

"Uh huh." I ignored him and stood up. "I care. Angela cares…"

"Okay, no one that counts," he said.

I frowned. "Why're you in such a hurry anyway?"

He narrowed his eyes, confirming there definitely was a reason. He wouldn't get irritated at me for asking if there wasn't. "None of your business."

"It is my business 'cause you're wigging out over nothin'," I told him, flipping around to comb my hair again. "We still have twenty minutes to spare, and I wanna look okay."

Boys didn't understand why it was important, but it really was. Six months ago, I didn't care what I looked like, but now it was like all my imperfections were magnified times a thousand and I had to hide them. I didn't paint my face up. I hated how makeup felt against my skin, and I'd never wear my hair as big or showy as Angela's, but I wanted to look _okay_. My hair didn't need to look perfect; I just wanted to tame the frizzy mess.

"Let's see." I could see him scratch his chin in the mirror. "You've got three pimples on your forehead. No matter what you do, you're gonna look ugly today. C'mon."

I pushed myself closer to the mirror; there _were_ three pimples, but he didn't have to point that out! "Liar," I grumbled and ignored him once again.

He flipped the light out and grabbed my arm. "We're leavin'."

"Ugh, you're such a jerk, Steve…"

He only smirked and drug me out the door with him.

At that moment, I wished I were a boy for two reasons: one, so I didn't have to care about my hair, and two and most importantly, so I could punch Steve and make it hurt him.

xxxx

We drove in silence for a long time. I was too hacked to talk to him, but then curiosity demanded I ask, "Why were you so rushed?"

"Already told you it's none of your damn business."

He glared at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Just quit with the twenty questions, okay?" he growled. "It's annoying, damn it."

"Well, it's annoying when you barge into the bathroom and make me leave early," I mumbled back under my breath, but I guess he heard me anyway.

He knocked me upside the head. "Shut it."

I grimaced, pretending it hurt more than it had in hopes he'd be nicer. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it just pissed him off more.

"Just mind your own damn business, alright?" he repeated a few minutes later. He definitely hadn't let it go yet…

"Glory, Steve, I'm sorry." I tried to sound apologetic, but it came out snappier than I wanted it to.

I didn't make sense. He _hated_ getting up early even more than he hated school. Most of the time he skipped anyway, so why did he need to get there so badly today? I was only curious. He didn't have to flip out about it…

He was silent until he pulled the car over and elbowed me to get out. "Go," he said, pointing to the school. "Get out of here before I have half a mind to deck you."

"I really am sorry, Steve," I said, stepping out of the car. This time I truly meant it.

"If you mean it, shut up and leave." He gave me a look, slammed the door, and drove away.

He'd been like this since his friends died, and I didn't blame him, but I wasn't trying to annoy. I was worried. He drank more, slept more, fought with Dad more, yelled at me more… The list went on and on, and I didn't know how to stop it. Maybe being an annoying little sister was the only way I knew how to show I cared…

I sighed and walked up the steps into the school, trying to forget about it.

Steve was always grumpy. There was no need to get upset about it.

xxxx

The day went faster than I expected. I mostly doodled in my notebooks, and none of my teachers called on me. Those were the best days; when attempting to go unnoticed actually worked.

At lunch, Angela and I sat with Rachel. Hell might freeze over … or not. Ever since Angela single-handedly destroyed Candace Miller's reputation, Rachel had a newfound respect for her, and I still didn't get it.

Honest, I thought it was awful what Angel did. When she told me she'd take care of Candy, I figured she'd spread one rumor to get even for the one rumor Candy spread about me, and I was okay with that. That seemed fair, but apparently one rumor wasn't good enough for Angela. No, she had to spread _all_ the dirt she knew about Candy, and before the end of the week, every girl in the seventh grade hated Candy. Or at least they knew a few reasons why they should hate her... Most of us just ignored her, and maybe being ignored was worse than being hated.

Angela was evil, and yet the greatest friend I could ask for at the same time. She was loyal. I had to give her that. After this, I'd never doubt our friendship again, even if I sort of felt bad for Candy.

She deserved it to some degree. She was awful to me, and I guess I wasn't the only one. She teased Rachel in elementary school, which is why Rachel decided she loved Angela after Angela knocked Candy off her pedestal, and Angela … well, I guess she couldn't resist somebody inflating her ego. No matter how much she and Rachel had fought in the past, all it took was Rachel admiring her to change her mind.

And now everything Angela and I did, we did with Rachel. Don't get me wrong, I liked Rachel just fine, but boy, were they ever loud.

I picked at my sandwich as they bickered. This was how lunch went every day; they'd start out talking to each other friendly, and then one of them would say something the other couldn't let go.

What today's argument was, I didn't know. They were driving me crazy, so I pushed my sandwich away and rested my head in my arms, imagining I was invisible. Whenever they did this, they probably made a scene.

Maybe Steve was right when he said all girls were catty. At least these two were. I mean, sometimes they got along and it was only gossip about other people, but those days made me uncomfortable too. Gossiping was alright for a little while, but I always felt guilty later. I could _never_ do it this easily.

I kept my head down and tried to tune out the nastiness; listening to them fight made me wonder what my house would be like if one of them were Steve's sister and not me. I usually gave Steve the final say because a death match for the last word wasn't my style. He never gave up, but neither did they. I understood in Angela's case. At her house, you had to be loud or you'd never get a word in, but Rachel … I didn't know. I guess she had to make up for her brother being twenty times more popular than her somehow. Still, between my dad, and Steve, and one of them, the house wouldn't be standing before the end of a week. Steve was _damn_ lucky he had me for a little sister. I wish he realized it.

Angela nudged me. "What do you think, Julia?"

I looked up slowly to find them both staring at me. "What do I think of what?"

"Of me dating Ponyboy Curtis," she said. "I think I'm dumping James for him…" I sighed. I stopped caring about her boy interests a long time ago, but she always insisted on asking my opinion… I gave her my honest opinion once. I told her she should stop chasing boys and wait for a nice one to ask her out. Apparently she took that to mean dump James and flirt with Ponyboy.

"I think it's stupid," Rachel chimed in before I could speak, and I was glad. I didn't feel like talking, so she might as well.

Angela glared at her.

"Like I said, he ain't gonna date you," Rachel continued.

"Shut up, I asked Julia, not you."

"Julia's too nice, she wouldn't tell you the truth!"

"Oh yeah?" Angela snapped her head back to me. "C'mon, Jule, what do you think?"

I shrugged, which only irritated Angela more. "Pony would too date me," she hissed at Rachel.

Rachel tapped her fingernails against the table and sneered back, "No way."

"You're just sayin' that because you have the world's biggest crush on him."

Rachel's cheeks reddened, and I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or angry. "Maybe," she said. "But at least I _know_ I'm too young to date … unlike somebody …" She looked to me like I was supposed to agree with her.

I planted my face in my hands and shook my head. Maybe I liked it better when they weren't friends; then the fighting only happened when they were forced to be around each other, and now they were around each other all the time and fought by choice.

"Pony would _never_ date you," Angela insisted.

Rachel huffed. "Why not?"

"'Cause your Two-Bit's little sister."

"So?" Rachel shot back. "You're Tim and Curly's!"

"Yeah, but they're not as good of friends with him as your brother. Think your brother would like that?"

"Yours wouldn't either…"

Angela grinned. "No, they'd just be happy I finally picked someone nice."

If they wanted my opinion, they were both wrong. I didn't know Pony that well, but I knew wouldn't date either of them. He was quiet, and they were too loud. And Angela thinking her brothers wouldn't care was wishful thinking. After years of being her friend, it was obvious they did care. Once they figured out what she was doing, they cared a lot…

The bickering continued, and I groaned loud enough they both heard me.

"What's your problem?" Angela asked.

"You two. Both of you." I gathered up my lunch box, stood up and started walking away. "Y'all drive me crazy. I'm eatin' with Leslie."

"Wait," Rachel called after me, but Angela just shrugged like she expected it.

"Jule, we're sorry, we won't fight anyore," Rachel added.

Angela glared at her. "I ain't promising anything…" Of course Angela wouldn't promise anything, and as much as she was irritating me right now, I admired that. She was honest about her intentions and told you exactly what was on her mind. You always knew where you stood. With Rachel, I wasn't sure.

All I knew is Angela'd been dead certain she'd date Ponyboy eventually, and once her mind was made up, Rachel stood no chance. Part of me hoped Angela succeeded because he was a nice guy, unlike the others she'd chased, but the other half knew they wouldn't last long… She and James were on and off. Just like that Bryon Douglas she hung around sometimes.

"Julia, please!" Rachel called after me once more, but I was already half way to where Leslie was.

His table was empty except for him and a girl named Wendy, his only other friend besides me. "This is the first time you've sat with us in a while, Julia," she said when I sat down. I wasn't sure if she sounded irritated, or if she was just pointing it out to me. Either way, I felt unwelcome.

They were the social outcasts of the seventh grade, and while he had problems standing up for himself, she didn't. She was weird, eccentric and proud of it, and sometimes that made me jealous, especially when she called me out on my insecurities.

Admittedly their lunch table was a last resort for me, and that was probably a lousy thing to do. They were better friends to me than Angela and Rachel, but I didn't want to part ways with either group. I liked being able to choose. It made me feel like I had more friends than I actually did.

"It's no big deal, Wendy," Leslie told her. "She can sit with us."

I smiled on the inside. I knew I liked him for a reason.

"I never said she couldn't," Wendy defended herself. "I just said it's been a while since she sat here." She turned to me. "You should sit here more. Let me guess? Angela and Rachel again?"

I sighed, relieved she wasn't irritated with me. "Always and forever," I said, glancing back to where they were. Rachel motioned urgently for me to rejoin them, but I didn't want to.

I shook my head at her and turned back to Les and Wendy.

Sure, Wendy let me know how she felt when I ditched them, but it wasn't the same coldness Rachel gave me when I did it to her. Angela didn't care. She knew we'd always be friends and had nothing to fear, but Rachel went from being nothing to something when Angela befriended her, and she wasn't gonna give her new social group easily. Not sure why she thought giving me the cold shoulder would help her cause, but I guess she did…

She was nothing like her brother. Her brother wasn't my friend, but sometimes I thought I liked him better. She probably hated that. I couldn't decide who had it worse when it came to brothers: me or her. Everyone knew Two-Bit for his sense of humor, but everyone know Steve for being for well… being an asshole. I could say "being a smartass" if wanted to word it nicely, but I knew my brother was a jerk to some people.

Leslie and Wendy talked amongst themselves. I knew I was welcome to join the conversation, but my mind wandered just as much at their table as it had with Angela and Rachel. I guess, it was awkward for me no matter where I sat.

I told Steve this once, and he told me to quit whining because no one likes seventh grade.

He was probably right.

xxxx

I walked home because Steve forgot to pick me up again. It was probably on purpose because he was hacked at me, but I tried not to think about it. I stayed focused on the task of walking, refusing to think of anything else, shoving one foot in front of the other as fast as I could until I got home twenty minutes later.

When I got there, I was stunned to see Rosie.

I stood back a half a block, unsure what to do. I'd thrown away her phone number and ignored the three letters she sent me; as far as I was concerned, I was content to never see her again, but there she was, seated on our front step, smoking a cigarette. Her baby bump was visible now, and I wondered if it was bad to smoke while you were pregnant…

She noticed me and smiled. I grimaced and walked the rest of the way to her.

She put the cigarette out and got up to hug me. "It's good to see you, sweetie," she said, squeezing me tight. "Why haven't you called?"

I pulled away and shrugged. "Uh… I've been busy. Lots of homework … and stuff."

"Tell your teachers to quit working you so hard." She smirked and patted my arm. "Think you can let me in? I need to talk to your daddy as soon as he gets home."

Before I could think twice about it, I reached for my key in my pocket and unlocked the door.

"Thanks, honey," she said and walked inside.

For a moment I stood in the doorway, wondering if letting her in had been a mistake. Would Dad be angry about this? No one had said a word about her since she left…

"So tell me about yourself," she said once I'd found the courage to come inside. "How've you been?"

I gave her a suspicious look. Was this small talk? Or did she really care?

I shrugged again and plopped down on the couch, hoping Dad or Steve would come home soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Rosie was persistent. She kept asking me questions, and I kept trying to dodge them. She asked everything—how was school, how were my friends, how was Dad, even how was Steve—and when my vague answers didn't satisfy her curiosity, she turned to me and asked, "Is something wrong, honey?"

I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head. I knew exactly why Steve hated her calling him that, because "honey" rung in my ears something awful. If it weren't rude, I'd have smacked her or told her to shut up. She had no right to call me that anymore. She cheated on my dad and _left_.

And now she was acting like none of that had ever happened?

She gave me a concerned look, but it didn't look sincere. "You sure?" she asked

I nodded again, refusing to speak to her if I could help it. This was awkward, and I hoped she knew it. I hoped she realized she just put me in an awful position. As much as I wanted Steve or Dad to come home so I didn't have to deal with her anymore, I knew they wouldn't be happy I'd let her in. But what else could I do? She was pregnant for Christ's sakes. You don't just leave a pregnant person to sit outside, regardless of who they were or what they had done.

"C'mon, now." She touched my arm, and I curled my lip under my teeth. "I can tell something's wrong," she kept on. "Talk to me, baby."

_Baby._ I wasn't her baby. That was it. That was the last straw. I couldn't be polite anymore. "You really wanna know?" I asked harshly "It's _you_. You're acting like everything is just fine between us, and it isn't, so knock it the hell off! I'm sick of it."

"Julia Mae." She gave me a pointed look and took her hand off my arm. "You don't talk to me like that."

I glared back, surprised she even remembered my middle name, and maybe even more surprised she'd bothered to use it. The shock halted me for a second, but then I regained my courage. She couldn't get away with this crap. "You're not my stepmom anymore. You don't even live here."

She narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose. "I'm sure you daddy will love to hear about this," she threatened. "I'm sure he'll love to hear _all _about these choice words you been using."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, just as much as he'll love to see you."

I turned away, and unexpectedly, she reached over and smacked me across the cheek.

"How dare you act like this," she said.

I rubbed my cheek and stared at her, lost for words.

"I worried about you somethin' awful, you know," she said, but I doubt she meant it. "I sent you letters. I tried to call you since you never called me. Glory, honey, just because things went bad with your dad doesn't mean they have to be bad between us."

I knew that, but it didn't change the way I felt about her. When she left I realized Steve was right about her all along, and I'd just been blissfully ignorant to the kind of person she was. She wasn't evil or mean, but she was needy and used people, just like she'd used my dad. And maybe I loved him more than I thought I did, because I was still mad about that.

"I don't know what to say," I told her.

"You could apologize maybe," she suggested.

I shook my head. Like hell I'd apologize. I had nothing to apologize for. She could apologize to me for lots of things, mostly for being insincere, I wasn't apologizing. Not even if Dad tried to make me later.

She sighed and covered her face with her hands. She fell silent and gave up trying to talk to me. At first the silence was beautiful, but then I felt awful, realizing my words had truly bothered her.

Maybe she cared. I still doubted it, but maybe.

The silence loomed for several minutes, but I couldn't find the courage to break it.

Neither of us spoke a word to the other until my father came home. "So you did decide to stop by, huh?" Dad said, approaching Rosie.

I stared at him with wide eyes. He'd _asked_ her to come? She didn't mention that... _He_ never mentioned that.

"Yeah, I gave what you said some thought, and I think you're right," she said, nodding her head slightly.

Dad ran a hand through his hair and turned to me, giving me one of those looks you'd give a child who wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping, but then he sighed and flipped his attention back to Rosie. "I take it you two had a nice conversation, huh?"

I wondered if nice was supposed to be sarcastic. He wasn't stupid, he could probably sense the tension in the room.

"Nice wouldn't exactly be the word for it," Rosie said, giving me one hell of a look.

I rolled my eyes until I realized my father was glaring at me. "You gettin' an attitude again, young lady?" he asked, crossing his arms.

I shook my head, still too in shock he'd asked her to come to realize there was a strong chance I might be in trouble.

He grabbed my chin in his hand and looked me straight in the eye. "You apologize to her right now or you can spend the rest of the night in your room, you understand me?"

It was better than what I thought he might threaten me with, but I still hated it when he talked to me like this, like I was a six year old kid.

He gripped my chin tighter. "Answer me," he growled.

I nodded, and he let go of me.

"Go on then." He took a step back and motioned towards Rosie.

She was staring at me. I expected a smug grin on her face, but there wasn't one. She just looked sad.

"Sorry, Rosie." I didn't mean it. At least I think I didn't.

"It's okay, honey. You probably just had a rough day." She held her arms out to me. "Come here and give me a hug."

I sat still for a moment, hesitant of what I should do. A moment later, Dad pulled me to my feet and nudged me in her direction.

I got up and let her hug me, not giving her much of one back.

This was strange. There was no other word for it.

xxxx

I spent the next hour in my room, laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Dad sent me here. I wasn't sure if it was because I was in trouble or not, but either way, he seemed eager to talk to Rosie away from where I could hear them. I pressed my ear to the wall and strained as best I could, but they must've known I might try to listen. They were being really, really quiet, and if I didn't know any better I'd say they were getting along.

My door swung open. I expected Dad, but it was Steve.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. "C'mon, I'm gettin' you outa here," he said.

"What?" I stood in place for a moment, but he tugged me forward.

"Yeah," he said. "Unless you wanna stick around for the rest of _her_ visit." I knew her was referring to Rosie, and though it was tempting to stay, to find out what they were talking about, it was more tempting to follow Steve.

He never asked me to go anywhere with him. I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

I followed him out of my room and towards the front door.

"Hey, where you goin' with her?" Dad stopped us.

"For a walk," he said.

"Really?" Dad questioned.

"Really," Steve said, pulling me out the door with him before Dad could bother us more.

We walked straight past his car, so I guess we really were going for a walk.

"Where're we going?" I asked him.

"Anywhere to get away from her," he said. "I know you like her about as much as I do now, so I figured you might wanna come along."

I felt like calling bullshit on that. He was sure it was that? And not that he'd been a total asshole to me this morning and had to make up for it somehow?

"You forgot to pick me up today," I told him, and I'll admit on purpose to remind him why he maybe felt like being nice to me now.

He nodded. "Yeah, and I see you got home okay."

"It's more the principle of the matter," I said, crossing my arms. It was true. I didn't care that I had to walk, I cared that he purposefully blew me off, and I especially cared that he was being nonchalant about it now.

He patted my shoulder. "And look at you, still alive. It's a miracle."

"Jerk," I said, elbowing his side.

He smirked. "Pride myself on it."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking, nearly jogging just to keep up. His legs were so much longer than mine. Thankfully he stopped near a park bench a few moments later and led me to sit beside him. "So I wanted to talk to you about somethin'," he said, staring at his folded hands.

I could tell it was serious. "What?"

"Well, you know I got arrested a couple weeks ago, right?" he asked.

I nodded. I still didn't know what for. All I remembered was he spent a night in jail, and then Dad yelled at him a lot and kicked him out.

"Well, I been missin' a lot of school and stuff like that," he explained. "And they told me they're considering sticking me in a reformatory if I don't shape up or somethin'."

I bit down on my lip anxiously. "Only considering, though, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, not for sure, but there ain't exactly swarms of adults willing to vouch for me, so I dunno."

I gave him a confused look. "Why don't you just start behaving?" I suggested. "Easy solution."

"Easier said than done," he grumbled. "C'mon kid, don't you think I'll do my damned best to stay out of trouble? Of course I will."

I wasn't sure I believed that, but the look on his face told me he was serious about it. "Just … thought I'd give you a heads up since I can't guarantee anything," he added.

"So that's why you wanted to be on time for school today?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

He leaned into the back of the bench and sighed. "Um, let's see. You're annoying. You ask too many damn questions. I didn't know what the hell to tell you."

"Glory, one reason woulda sufficed," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Just feel lucky I'm tellin' ya now, huh?" He ruffled my hair to let me know they were no hard feelings, but it didn't make me feel any better.

I hated the thought of him in a reformatory period. "Please be good," I begged him.

He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke at me. "I said I'd try."

"Don't try," I insisted. "_Promise_ you will."

"Glory, kid, you don't know when to quit sometimes, do you?"

I turned away from him and started at a nearby tree. I was just worried. He didn't have to act like a big jerk about it, but for him, I guess this was being nice. He'd just bothered to tell me something semi personal, and I should be happy for that.

I felt his hand on my shoulder a minute later and flipped around to face him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said.

Surprised as I was, I guess it really was only a nice gesture.

xxxx

When we got home, Rosie was already gone, but then Dad shocked the hell out of us by announcing she was moving back in.

I don't know who was more surprised: me or Steve.

"She fuckin' cheated on you," Steve yelled at him. "That mean anything to your halfwit brain?"

Dad grabbed ahold of Steve's shoulders and thrust him against the living room wall. "I don't wanna hear one smartass comment out of you, got it?"

"Oh yeah," Steve told him, pushing him right back. "Excuse me for forgetting you're not smart enough to understand them."

Dad shoved him twice as hard, and the sound impact of Steve hitting the wall scared me.

"Stop it," I pleaded with both of them. "Stop it!"

Dad let go of Steve's shirt, and Steve seized the opportunity to get a swing in. "Steve!" I snapped at him.

Dad held back. Where he was influenced by me or not, I didn't know, but he held back.

"Do whatever the hell you want with your love life, Charlie," Steve growled, walking away. "Just don't be surprised if she sleeps around again."

Dad lunged forward, but I grabbed his arm. "You stay out of it," he barked at me.

"Please." I tugged on his arm, and he turned around to glare at me.

"I said stay out of it," he repeated.

I let go and looked towards the ground. Thinking I could stop them from fighting was stupid anyway.

I pivoted my feet to start walking, but he pulled me into a half hug unexpectedly and kissed the top of my head. "Go to your room, honey," he said.

_What, so you can kick Steve out without me watching?_ I almost asked him, but I kept my trap shut and listened.

xxxx

As it turned out, he didn't kick Steve out, but that didn't make anything less tense or awkward. We hardly spoke a word to each other at supper, and after supper, we all sat quietly in front of the TV. As much as I hated the fighting, the silence was almost worse.

It was that quiet kind of tension where you knew something or somebody would explode soon.

I glanced at Steve several times, sending him vibes to stay silent, but all I'd accomplished was irritating him more.

"I just have one question for you, Charlie," Steve said finally. "_Why_?"

"Why what?"

"Don't play stupid, you know what I'm talking about."

Dad glared at him for a couple seconds, and I held my breath, preparing myself for the fireworks, but in the end, Dad just got up and left.

"Nice going, Steve," I said as soon as I was sure he was gone.

"Shut up," he told me. "I'll bet anything you'd like to know too."

It was true. I did wanna know, but not at the risk of pissing off Dad.

We sat in silence until I drug myself to bed.

xxxx

Hours later, I still couldn't sleep. There was too much on my mind.

Steve.

Rosie.

Dad.

I wasn't sure if I should be happy about her moving in or not. I wasn't ready to forgive her, but despite lashing out at Steve, Dad seemed happy to have her back in our lives. I didn't get it. I honest to God didn't get it.

Maybe I could forgive her if she kept being sincere. We would never be as close, but maybe I could tolerate being nice to her. I didn't know. Once upon a time, the thought of her moving out terrified me, and now it was the thought of her moving back in accomplishing the same darn thing.

If Dad could just make sense for once... Steve was right about the whole thing, but what could I do?

I just hoped she wouldn't start acting motherly towards me again. If there was one thing I couldn't handle it was that.

I shut my eyes and focused on my breathing. It had to be damn near one of the morning and I had school tomorrow.

Somehow I managed to drift off, but I woke up just as fast, screaming.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Knowledge of Landslide is necessary to understand this chapter, specifically chapter's 16 through the end. If you read it once, you most likely won't need to reread, but if you're at all confused, go reread. :)

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It took me a while to realize I was the one screaming. I shot up and touched my hands to the bed to assure myself I was out of the dream. My heart pounded and tears streamed down my cheeks, but I only vaguely remembered my dream. Everything was hazy, and the details were already disappearing the longer I was awake.

It was about Larry and that party, and I didn't care to remember anything more, so I didn't try. That happened months ago; I shouldn't be dreaming about it _now_.

"What the hell're you screamin' about?"

My light flipped on, and I shielded my eyes from the brightness.

It was Steve, but for a second, it sounded like it could be Dad. Their voices sounded more and more alike as Steve got older, but I'd never tell him that for fear of how he'd take it.

Steve glared at me for an answer. "I dunno," I lied, shoving my knees to my chest and hiding my face in them. If he was gonna yell at me for waking him up, I didn't wanna hear it. I still felt as helpless as I had in the dream, even if I couldn't remember it clearly.

"You can't just scream like that and say you don't know," he said. "For Christ's sakes, you probably woke up the whole goddamned neighborhood."

I knew that, and I was embarrassed about it. If I knew I was gonna scream, I wouldn't have done it, so he didn't need to act like a jerk right now. I did my best to ignore him and pretend he wasn't there. If I waited a minute more, he'd probably take off, but before that minute was up, I felt him sit down on my bed.

"What was it?" he asked hardly patient.

"Nothing."

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I repeated.

"That sounds like bullshit."

"Well, it's not," I said. He probably wouldn't give up, but I didn't feel like telling him anything if he was gonna act like a jerk, so he'd just have to deal with that.

"You don't scream in the middle of the night for no reason," he kept on. "So why don't ya quit being a stubborn little shit and tell me what happened?"

If he was concerned, he sure didn't sound like it or look it. "I … I don't remember," I told him.

"You sure?" he asked. "'Cause I'm pretty damn sure you're lyin' to me."

"I'm _not_."

"You are too."

"How can you know that?" I lifted my head up for a second to glare at him. "You're not me."

"No, but I've known you long enough to know you're the worst liar ever."

"Just leave me alone," I said, shoving my face back into my knees.

He said nothing, and though I hadn't looked up, I knew he was still there because I hadn't felt his weight lift off the bed yet.

I just wanted to go back to bed, without his interference, but that was hopeless. If I wanted him to think it was nothing, I was doing a terrible job. I shook out of frustration. He knew something was wrong, and he wasn't going to give up.

"Julia, you're drivin' me insane here," he said, as though I wasn't already aware, but I couldn't say anything.

If I did, he'd want to know more, and I couldn't tell him more. He might think something worse had happened, something worse like Larry actually sleeping with me, and then he'd do something stupid and end up in a reformatory for sure.

"C'mon, knock it off."

I ignored him.

Steve tried to put an arm around my shoulder, but I slapped him away. "Leave me alone," I repeated.

He tried once more, and I slapped him away again. "Go away."

"Stop it." He grabbed my hands and held them so I couldn't hit him again. "What the hell is goin' on?"

"I dunno."

"Tell me that _one_ more time and see what happens," he growled, letting go of my hands.

"I. Don't. Know." I glared at him. "Please just leave."

"No." He grabbed my arms and shook me slightly. "It's 2AM, you screamed bloody murder, woke me and probably the entire universe up, and you wanna pretend it's nothing? I'm sorry, but I ain't falling for that bullshit, so you better start talkin'."

I tried to jerk away, but his fingers dug into my arms. "_Now_."

"It was a nightmare," I said, disappointed I couldn't hold out longer, but the look he gave me scared me, and his fingers were starting to hurt me.

"Alright, that's something," he said, letting go. "What about?"

I turned away. "I dunno."

"_I dunno_," he mocked. "That all you can say tonight? How do you not know?"

I shrugged, tears falling even faster.

"I ain't leavin' 'til you tell me," he added. "What was it?"

"It was Larry..." I said quietly.

"Larry?" he demanded.

I should've figured a guy's name would irritate him, but he wasn't leaving without an answer. I hated that. I hated being bossed around, especially by him.

"Larry _who_?"

"That kid at the party Angela took me to a couple months ago..." I sighed. "She told you about him, I think..."

"She told me you were kissin' him," he said. "And that some girl started a rumor about you I hope to God ain't true."

I held my breath for a second, disgusted he thought it could be true. "That all she told you?" I asked nervously. I didn't remember the exact words Angela told him.

"You were there, weren't you?" He raised an eyebrow. "There something more I should know about?"

I shook my head firmly.

"If you're dreamin' about it, I'd say there is."

I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared at the wall. I told him, that was all I wanted to say, but I knew I couldn't leave him at just that.

"What happened?"

I could play dumb and pretend he was asking about the dream, but I knew he was asking about that night. "You mean … the dream?"

"No," he grumbled impatiently.

I hugged my knees closer, trying to come up with a way to word this. For Christ's sakes, I thought Angela told him _everything._ I mean, I didn't listen to it closely. It was too embarrassing, but from what I gathered, it was everything. And then when he yelled at me about it, it sure seemed like he knew everything then too. I didn't get it.

"You and that kid …" His face was growing redder. " … you didn't … did you?"

I shook my head.

"Is that a 'no, we didn't' or 'no, we did'?"

"He tried," I said, and that was all I could get out.

Steve went from irritated to angry in a matter of seconds. "Angela made it sound like you were just making out." He slammed his fist against my nightstand. "I could just kill her. She _knew_, didn't she?"

I shrugged. I still didn't get how he didn't know. He was the one who was paranoid about this kind of shit after all... "I thought you knew," I said quietly. "You saw me that night, I thought you knew." My knees had been scraped, and I looked like a mess. He wasn't stupid, but then I remembered that was also the night his friends died. Maybe that had something to do with why he wasn't remembering it the same way I was, and then who knows what Angela really told him. Embarrassed or not, I should've paid more attention.

"Just sounded like you were doin' more than you should've," he said, his voice almost a yell. "Not … _that_." He ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, not that. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought she did!"

He shook his head. "I would've remembered it."

I rubbed at my eyes. "So you beat up somebody just 'cause you thought they kissed me?"

"That not a good enough reason?" he demanded. "You're _twelve_! I could kill somebody for just looking at you..."

I said nothing. I knew he was exaggerating, but sometimes I wondered.

"Jule..." He sighed. "Shit, I didn't know..."

"It's okay, Steve," I said. I didn't feel okay myself, but I should. Nothing actually happened so I should feel lucky and not have nightmares about it.

"No, it's not!" He shot up, and I worried he might punch a hole in the wall or something. "It's _not_ okay."

I watched him. He paced a bit and stopped, shaking his head at me. "You said he tried," he said. "That's all, right?"

I nodded.

"You're not lyin' to me?"

"No..."

"You were lyin' to me earlier," he said. "Why should I trust a word you say?"

I wiped tears off my cheeks and tried to compose myself. "'Cause I wouldn't lie about this..."

"Yeah," he said, less irritated. "Yeah, okay..."

He approached me and sat down on the bed again. "You gonna hit me again if I try to hug you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Good," he said, wrapping his arms around me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He only sounded slightly irritated now, but I didn't know what to say, so I just hugged him back tighter.

"No, I wanna know," he said, prying my arms off him. "Why didn't you?"

He looked at me, but I couldn't look at him. "'Cause it didn't happen..." I said, gazing off to the side of me. "It's not a big deal 'cause it didn't actually go that far..."

"It _is_ a big deal," he said angrily. "Don't you dare say that, 'cause it ain't true."

I shrugged. I didn't wanna be this upset about it, but maybe he was right, because I still was.

"Hey, listen to me," he said. "Why do you think I get mad about you hangin' around Angela Shepard?"

"'Cause you hate her and you're a jerk," I told him.

"Okay, okay, that too, but there's more than that," he insisted. "Just trust me when I say she hangs around the kind of guys you don't want..."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just started arguing. "You're just paranoid."

He gave me one hell of a look. "After hearin' this, I don't think you got a right to say that."

"Yeah..."

"That all you can say? _Yeah_?"

I shrugged. "I don't know why I'm still upset about it." I guess I'd just admitted it out loud, but I wished I could take it back.

"I'm not surprised," he said, slinging an arm around me. "Cut yourself some slack. You're twelve, and some creep tried to... Of course you're upset."

That might've been the first time I've ever heard him tell me to cut myself slack. I didn't know what to think.

"And believe me, I'll kill that bastard if I ever see him again," he added, the anger creeping back into his voice.

"I thought you already did..." I remembered he'd interrogated poor Leslie before figuring out who the right guy was too. Thought for sure after that, he'd break Larry's nose.

"Not good enough," he told me.

I started to worry then and remembered exactly why I wasn't gonna tell him, but for some reason, I was relieved he knew at the same time. I really was. I didn't get it.

I took a deep breath, trying to relax, but the tears fell harder. I guess I was destined to be a crybaby all my life.

"While we're at it... anything else I should know?" he asked a minute later. He would ask that, as though I was lying to him about something.

There were probably a few things he might like to know, but I couldn't think of anything off the top of my head, and even if I could, I wasn't up for talking anymore. "No, that's all," I said.

"You sure? 'Cause I'm kinda pissed I didn't know this..."

"You're pissed at me?" I asked anxiously.

"No, not you," he said, and he tightened his grip around me so I knew he meant it. "Just … I dunno, forget I said it, okay?"

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I heard the front door slam shut. I jumped a bit.

"Hey, it's just Dad showing up finally," Steve told me. "Don't worry about it."

"You think he's really gonna let Rosie move in?" I asked.

"He's a stupid son of a bitch for it, but yeah, I think so."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything, and a minute or two later, Dad was standing in front of us. "Little late for you two to be up, huh?"

"Little late for you to be just gettin' home, huh?" Steve argued back.

"You two should be asleep," Dad yelled.

I couldn't see for sure, but from the shift in Dad's facial expression, I'd assume Steve was glaring at him. "You know, you pick the worst times to try to a parent, Charlie."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dad demanded, taking a couple steps closer to us.

I held on to Steve tighter.

"She had a fucking nightmare," Steve said, wrapping his other arm around me. "You should've just stayed gone if you wanted to make things worse."

"Shut up," he grumbled at Steve, but then he sighed and crouched down.

"I didn't know that, honey," he said, and I knew he was talking to me and not Steve because he would've never called Steve that.

"You okay, honey?" he asked.

I didn't answer. I could smell the beer in his breath and tried to ignore him.

He stroked my hair. "Why don't you come talk to me about it, and we'll let your brother go sleep, huh?"

I kept quiet again. I wasn't sure if he really meant that or if he was just trying to prove something to Steve.

"C'mon, Julia," he begged a minute later, and I shook my head.

"Go to bed, Charlie," Steve told him.

Dad got up and stood there for a moment, giving Steve the nastiest look ever, and he seemed so drunk, I was surprised he didn't start yelling.

"Julia," he tried once more.

"I think it's pretty damn obvious she wants me here and not you," Steve told him harshly.

"That true, kid?"

I wasn't sure if he was addressing me or Steve, but I figured it was me.

I was silent for a moment in case it wasn't, but when Steve said nothing, I figured I should. "Yeah," I said, and turned away so I couldn't see how he took it. I assumed not good because I heard him stomp away and slam the door behind him.

"I think he's upset about what I said," I told Steve, trying to hold back tears. I almost felt bad. He truly did seem like he was only concerned …

"No shit," Steve said. "But don't you dare feel bad about that. He needed to hear it."

I wasn't sure about that. Steve was right, but I wondered how much of a difference it would make.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

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_Friday, November 4th, 1966_

I ate my bowl of cereal slowly the next morning. Dad kept giving me the weirdest looks, and I couldn't tell if they were out of sympathy or annoyance. He and Steve were both like that; it could be any emotion possible, but they always looked hacked.

My cornflakes were probably getting soggy, but I kept stirring them around the bowl with my spoon. It was very rare that I was hungry at breakfast. I just couldn't bring myself to eat this early in the morning, and if I had my way, I'd never eat breakfast, but Dad was pushy about not wasting the cereal you poured out for yourself. Eventually I'd have to eat this, starved or not.

I looked to Dad and wondered if he'd say anything about last night. I thought about what Steve told me; about him needing to hear I didn't want him there. It was obvious it hurt had him, but it _was _the truth. Steve was just … I dunno. Annoying, aggravating, and bossy to name a few, but I trusted him. I guess he was an alright brother when I really thought about it, all other minor complaints aside, and Dad was unpredictable. Steve could be too, but at least I knew he wouldn't keep yelling if I was upset. He always told me it was annoying when I cried, but sometimes I figured that was because he couldn't stand seeing it and got nicer in response.

When Dad could no longer dodge my looks, he turned to me and sighed. "You sleep okay, baby?" he asked, the first words he'd said to me all morning.

I shrugged. "Yeah." I guess I had. Steve had stayed with me for a while, at least until I fell asleep, and he was uncharacteristically nice, even nicer than his version of nice, so I could only guess it was because of what I'd told him. Part of me wished I hadn't. Maybe it was good he knew, but now I was nervous for the next time I'd see him. It was embarrassing, considering I'd bawled my eyes out and kept him up until nearly four in the morning. I don't think he minded, but I did. It was true he was nicer to me if I cried, but I didn't like that; it made me feel like a needy crybaby.

Dad said nothing more, but he continued to glance at me every now and then. It was clear he didn't know what to say to me, and whenever that happened, he just stayed quiet.

"Dad, when's Rosie moving in?" We needed something to chat about, and I truly did wanna know. That was a lot to spring on us after all. I'd sooner assumed they were done for good the way he'd complained about her the past two months, but then he had to go and surprise the hell out of us.

"Dad..." I prompted again when he didn't reply.

"Ain't sure," he told me. "It ain't even for sure yet."

"Really?" I asked hopefully.

He rubbed his forehead. "You gonna give me shit about her like your brother?"

"No..."

"You_ better _not," he said, and I regretted ever bringing this up. If he was this touchy about it, something told me, he himself was doubting why he was doing this, and that was a good thing. Steve and I unanimously agreed it was a terrible idea; that had to count for something.

"Why's she moving in?" I knew I was pushing my luck, but I guess Steve was right when he told me I'd want to know the same thing. Besides, I didn't just want to know; it was my right _to_ know. I lived here, so it directly affected me.

I stared at him with anticipation for his answer, but he just smacked a hand down against the table. "I shouldn't have to answer that."

"But—"

"Lemme make this clearer," he cut me off, getting close to my face and staring me down. "You start badgering me about this the way your brother has, an' you'll be awful sorry, you understand me?"

I nodded.

"I'm still married to her for Christ's sakes," he went on, his voice just under a yell. "There's _no_ reason why you two should be so disrespectful about it."

I nodded again and kept my trap shut. Unlike Steve, I knew when to stop, and I could only guess the reason he was this irate already was Steve's fault. If he and Steve hadn't fought about it, I'll bet he'd be willing to talk to me.

"I mean that," he said, walking away. "Not another word about her."

I wiped a stray tear off my cheek and hoped he didn't see it. He always scared the crap out of me when he talked to me like that.

He sat down beside me and quick ate the breakfast he'd made for himself. When he was almost done, he turned to me, "You sure you slept okay?" he asked again. "You look kinda pale."

I was probably pale because I didn't need him yelling at me about Rosie and nothing more, but I nodded.

He got up, put his plate in and approached me. He crouched down and put his hands on my knees. "You know you can always tell me if there's somethin' wrong, right?"

_Without you getting mad? That's a fifty-fifty chance not worth taking_, I thought to myself, but I kept quiet.

He wait for me to say something, and when I didn't, he got him and kissed my forehead. "Be good at school."

I guess that marked the end of our conversation because he grabbed his keys and left.

I wasn't sure what to think. He'd been like this lately, trying to be more affectionate, trying to be a better father, but it still felt out of place no matter how nice it was.

xxxx

I spent an extra three minutes at my locker like I did every morning, and it was then I realized the Larry incident was bothering me more than I let on. I'd figured out where his classes were and rerouted my paths to all my classes so I wouldn't run into him in the hallway. And just as I was now, I even wasted time at my locker to avoid him. It didn't matter if I was late as long as I didn't have to see him, and today was the first time I consciously put that together.

It was silly and not worth the effort, but apparently it was because I couldn't bring my feet to move until those three minutes were up.

I sighed, grabbed my things in a haste, and ran to class, barely making it on time.

Thanks to my nightmare and no sleep, school was terrible. I couldn't concentrate, two teachers snapped at me, and to top it all off, Angela was in one of her infamous bad moods where the whole world just _had_ to know she was suffering. The only Shepard who suffered in silence was Tim. The rest of them were loud, and Angela was by far the loudest.

"Tim's a goddamned hypocrite," she declared at lunch, setting her tray down forcibly. "I get picked up and hauled in once compared to his, let's see, oh, a _hundred_ times, and he has the balls to give me big lecture about it? I don't think so, Timothy. I don't think so..."

I smirked on the inside. Clearly Tim had had some effect on her or she wouldn't be whining about it now.

Rachel and I listened to her whine for a while, and I then I guess Rachel couldn't take it anymore. "I'll bet you anything Two-Bit's worse sometimes," she said, and though I agreed Angela was complaining too much, I doubted it was true.

No question Two-Bit was annoying sometimes, but I recalled him congratulating me on punching Marie Greenwood when Steve about teared me a new one. Considering that, I knew he wasn't a hypocrite. I understood 100% where Angela was coming from on that, only I think I appreciated Steve more than she did Tim. At least on the surface. Right now, you'd think Tim shot her or something the way she was acting about it.

"Everybody thinks he's soo funny, and he's not," Rachel rambled on. I'd give her that. I'll bet that was the number one reason why having Two-Bit as your brother would be irritating.

Angela tapped her fingernails against the table and continued to glare at Rachel. "Last I checked we weren't talking about you, were we?"

Rachel shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "No, but I thought I'd weigh in..."

And that's where I stopped paying attention. Sometimes it seemed like they were getting along, but it was just mutual whining I didn't want to be a part of.

"Hey, Angel, what'd you get hauled in for anyway?" I asked a second later, realizing she hadn't bothered to tell us yet.

"Got caught shoplifting," she said, like it wasn't a big deal.

Of course it wasn't a big deal. She was the one who tried to teach me that skill some couple months ago. I had to laugh. "Apparently you're not as good at it as you think you are, huh?"

"Shut up, Julia," she grumbled. "Everyone gets caught sometimes. You, on the other hand, get caught_ all _the time."

"Anyway," Rachel broke in. "I got some news y'all might wanna hear."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," Rachel said. "I overheard Ponyboy tell my brother he was goin' to the movies tonight. Thought maybe we could go and try to get spots next to him and his friends."

"So, you mean, we're gonna stalk them?" I asked, giving her a confused look.

"No, not like that—"

"I don't care what we call it," Angela cut her off. "I'm in."

And that's how we made our plans for tonight.

I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking on how I could get out of it, but in the end, I decided I didn't want to be left out.

xxxx

Angela made sure she looked perfect. She offered to do Rachel's and my makeup, but Rachel said her mom wouldn't like that, and I dunno why I refused. I just did. Last time I let her touch my face, bad things happened, and for all I know, maybe Steve would be there if Ponyboy was. He wouldn't go for just Ponyboy, but if Soda showed up, well then for sure he'd be there.

Once Angela's makeup was done, she looked about three years older than me and Rachel. She said she'd done a more natural look because Pony would apparently like that more, but her idea of natural was my idea of too much.

"What do you think?" she asked us.

"I think it's pretty," Rachel said immediately, but I couldn't tell if she really felt that way or if she wanted in Angela's good graces. It was funny how eager to please she was now. She used to tell me I let Angela boss me around way too much, but now she understood; she understood that Angela always got what she wanted, no matter how hard you tried.

Angela hurried us out the door when he step-dad pulled in the driveway, and we narrowly missed having to talk to him. He gave her a funny look when he saw how she was dressed, but she kept walking fast, straight past him, and we followed her.

I was glad he didn't stop us. As much as I could complain about my dad, he was no where near as bad as that asshole.

xxxx

Angela made damn sure we sat in the same row as Pony before the movie. I didn't know much about the movie except that it was called _Hawaii_, and Julie Andrews was in it. I guess none of us would watch much of it anyways except me. Pony might too because he likes movies and that kind of thing, but Angela certainly wasn't here for the movie.

Angela tried to make small take with Pony. He was polite, but I could tell he'd rather not talk to her.

"Well, well, well, fancy seein' you and your little friends here," we heard a voice behind us.

Angela quit talking to Pony and flipped around. It was her brother Curly. "What're you doin' here?" she demanded.

"Jus' seein' a movie with my good friend, Pony, here," he said casually, and Angela's eyes grew as wide as the entire state of Oklahoma. Her plans were completely foiled. Flirting with Ponyboy was out of the question if her brother was with him.

"I think I'mma go ask for a refund," she said, grabbing her purse and storming away.

Curly laughed at her and shook his head as he took a seat next to Pony, and though I was a little disappointed I probably wouldn't get to see the movie, this was too perfect. I guess Pony'd started hanging out with Curly more since his friend Johnny died, and Angela should've seen it coming.

We followed her reluctantly and got our refunds. Rachel was even more disappointed than me. "What do you mean we're done seein' a movie?" she asked.

"I'm not stayin' if he's here," Angela insisted. "He'll just tease me the whole damn time."

We kept walking wherever she was leading us. It seemed like she was just leading us on a long walk through all of Tulsa until she stopped in front of the gas station. "I need some cancer sticks," she said.

"You just got caught shoplifting last night!" I said, in an effort to stop whatever plans she had in mind.

"I'll get you some," Rachel volunteered. "I've seen my brother do it hundreds of times. Just let me keep half of 'em."

I stared at her wide-eyed and shook my head.

"Alright," Angela readily agreed.

"No," I told them both quickly. "That's an awful idea. Come on, let's just go to a diner and get some milkshakes or somethin'."

"That's boring." Rachel sighed, and I gave her a pointed look. Since when did she want to be a bad girl? She used to pride herself on being good...

"I'm goin' in," she declared, and that's when I got nervous.

"You really shouldn't trust her," I told Angela as soon as Rachel was gone. "She's probably never done anything like this.

Angela curled he lip under her teeth. "Damn it, you're probably right. Just look at her. Is she an idiot? You can't be that obvious about it."

I glared at her. "I told you it was a bad idea."

"Yeah, well, it's too late now," Angela said. We both watched from where we were, and just as I'd suspected, an employee caught her redhanded.

"Let's split in case they see us."

"No, we can't do that. That's mean!"

"Suit yourself, but _I'm_ not getting in trouble again," Angela said, and with that she was gone.

_Shit, shit, shit. _I debated running too, but I couldn't leave Rachel here alone. Rachel was already crying, and I made the stupidest decision I would all night. I walked in there and tried defend her.

I didn't say much, but it didn't matter. I didn't remember what I said a second later either because they'd already called the cops on us both. I did nothing, but because I had to try and save her, I apparently had something to do with it.

xxxx

I don't know if we were lucky or unlucky, but all the police did was scold us and tell us they were calling our parents to come get us. I guess they didn't take us all that seriously since we were only twelve year old girls, but I was damn anxious. Dad wasn't gonna like this, and I doubted Steve was home to pretend he was my father the way he did sometimes. Like Steve had said many times before, I couldn't always get so lucky...

I said a silent prayer no one was home when they called. Then maybe Beth Mathews would agree to take me home with her, and while she was sure to be angry as heck at Rachel, she'd probably be nicer than my dad. But when I gave the officer our number, the phone picked up right away.

I listened as the man explained what happened. He got it wrong. I hadn't tried to steal anything, but arguing my case probably wouldn't help me, and all I could think about was how pissed I was at Angela. Rachel shouldn't have been so stupid, but this was all Angela's fault for making us leave the movies in the first place and for the world's stupidest reason... Because Curly was there? Glory, she was something else.

"Your dad's on his way," the officer told me, a smug look on his face, like he just knew I was in trouble.

I nodded and sighed.

The wait was the worst. Beth showed up right away, and the glare she gave Rachel scared even me. That was the thing about her mom; she was super cool and hip ninety percent of the time, but if you made her mad, watch out.

Dad took his time to get there; whether that was on purpose of not, I didn't know, but the entire time I waited, I tried to think of a good story to tell him. I didn't have to lie technically, but I knew I'd get about five seconds if that to get a word in before he started tearing into me. I had to make my words count.

"Dad, I can explain," I said when he showed up.

"I think they explained it plenty," he said, grabbing me by my arm.

He thanked the officers and drug me out the doors with him.

His eyes were clear and I smelled absolutely no alcohol on him, so I took solace in that, but that was all I could be glad for.

xxxx

"Dad, I didn't actually steal anything," I tried once we were in the car. "Rachel did 'cause Angela dared her to, and then Angela left and I couldn't leave Rachel alone, so I ran in there and tried to defend her, but I swear that's all!"

"I don't care," he told me bitterly, and I was shocked he wasn't yelling yet. "For one, I had no clue where the hell you where between after school and now, and two, why on earth would you defend your friend for stealin' somethin'?"

"I didn't think you'd actually be home," I said, knowing there was good answer to the second question. It was true anyway. I figured he went out to drink with his work buddies every Friday. That much I could count on, but as far as I could tell, he was completely sober.

"That ain't an excuse," he said, and we both fell silent.

When we finally got home, he drug me inside and straight to my room, and I knew I was dead. "Stay there," he ordered.

As I watched him leave, I tried to remind myself he wasn't Angela's step-dad, but it only brought so much comfort.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I sulked in my room for a long time after he punished me. It wasn't as bad as I thought it might be—only a simple licking compared to the slaps across the face Angela was used to—but it still hurt and it wasn't fair. I did nothing wrong, except maybe not tell him where I was, but he was _never _home on Friday nights. How was I supposed to know tonight would be different?

I wiped at my eyes and stayed curled up to my pillow, determined not to leave, not even to go the bathroom. I didn't know what I was trying to prove to him, but I couldn't stand the thought of looking at him right now. If he wanted me to like him again, he sure wasn't doing a very good job of it.

Still, I tried to look at it optimistically. He didn't beat me necessarily, he didn't kick me out, he didn't even yell at me all that much. It could've been worse, a lot worse, but sometimes you just had to feel sorry for yourself no matter what, and this was one of those times. I would sulk as long as I damn well pleased.

After another ten minutes or so, I drifted off, hoping I'd stay asleep until morning, but then I awoke to a knock on my door.

I hoped for Steve. I didn't care about being embarrassed anymore, I wanted to see him now, but it was just Dad.

I ignored him in hopes he'd go away, but he kept knocking, as though he hadn't said or done enough already... "Leave me alone," I hissed at him. Probably not a smartest thing to say to your father after he'd just spanked you, especially _my _father, but I was pissed, damn it. I was pissed, and I wasn't holding back this time, not even if it got me in more trouble.

I heard him groan and then he opened the door without warning. Maybe I should've locked it, but I hadn't garnered the energy to get off my bed yet.

"You earned that fair and square," he told me, pointing his finger at me. "So I don't wanna hear your whining unless you want somethin' more to whine about." I expected him to say that, but it didn't make it any less aggravating to hear.

I sat up slowly, hugging my pillow in my lap. On seated, I realized I was being a bit of a baby because the pain was completely gone, but that was almost disappointing in itself. I should at least have a battle wound to show for it...

"I wanna talk to you," he said, taking a seat on my bed.

I scooted myself to the wall to get as far away from him as possible. "About what?"

"About what happened."

My face grew red. If he started lecturing me about something I hadn't done, I'd explode for sure. That might even be worse than getting hit when I really thought about it. "But I didn't steal anything," I insisted. I tried to stay calm, but my annoyance was escaping.

"I know," he said, and I stared at him for a while to make sure I heard him right. "I know you wouldn't do that, Julia."

"Then why the hell was I in trouble?" I demanded before I could even think twice about it.

He glared at me. "You better watch that mouth of yours unless you wanna be in more trouble."

I nodded reluctantly, disappointed I couldn't keep up my rebellion. I always did this. I always told myself I'd be strong no matter what he said or did, but in the end, he scared me too much. It wasn't fair. Steve could punch him if he wanted and hold his own in whatever fight that ensued, but me? I went down right away, whether I wanted to or not.

"Let's get somethin' straight here, Julia, the _only _reason I punished you is 'cause I had no clue where you were and it scared me something awful." He ground his fist into the bed to emphasize his words. "That's all, and you can't say you didn't earn that."

I hugged my pillow tighter, unsure what to say. He believed me about not stealing at least, but I was still mad, and I wished he hadn't looked sincere when he said it because that'd only make it harder to stay mad.

Maybe he was just worried about me. He sounded angry, but there was legitimate worry there too. "You gotta learn to leave me a note or somethin'," he said sternly. "It ain't that hard to understand."

I wouldn't forget after this, but I still didn't see why it mattered all of a sudden. He'd never cared much before. Steve never left a note when he went anywhere, and he'd only gotten mad about it once with me.

"Julia," he snapped.

I grimaced a bit, not realizing he was waiting on a reply. "Okay," I agreed through gritted teeth.

I thought he might hear the annoyance and snap at me again, but instead, he held out an arm to me, like he wanted to hug me.

Was he kidding? I started and him and kept myself pressed against the wall. When he didn't leave, I shook my head. He got the message then.

He walked away with the same look he had on his face last night, but I didn't mind doing it to him this time. If I apparently deserved that, he damn well deserved this, and I was proud of myself too. For the first time in maybe forever, it felt like I'd won something against him.

I didn't feel guilty later either. For the rest of the evening, I stayed in my room out of spite and managed to stay mad at him. I only left once because I had to pee so bad, but even when I got hungry, I stayed put. He wasn't getting my forgiveness anytime soon.

I waited on him to come back and try again, but he never did. The next person to open my door was Steve. "I didn't think you'd actually be up," he said, inviting himself in.

I didn't blame him. It was dang near one in the morning, and the only reason I was still up was stubbornness. "You always come into my room randomly when I sleep?" I asked him.

"No," he said. "Just wanted to make sure you were sleeping after last night."

I didn't know what to say to that, but I smiled on the inside to think he would check up on me.

"You know what Dad's deal is?" he asked, taking a seat beside me. "Rosie come here or something?"

It was funny he thought it was Rosie right away. As far as I knew, she hadn't showed up at all, and if she did, she probably would've made everything worse. "No," I told him. "It's kinda a long story."

"Really?" He smirked. "You do something bad?"

I smacked his arm. He was already way too excited about this.

"Kinda..."

"Explain 'kinda'."

I sighed, trying to think of how to tell the story. When he heard about the cops, there was a strong chance he may decide it wasn't funny anymore, but at the same time, I wanted him on my side about this, and the only way to accomplish that was to tell him. "Well," I began. "Rachel volunteered to steal some cigarettes for Angela, and she got caught, but Angela took off, and I should've too, but I went in the gas station and tried to defend her... I know it sounds crazy, but that's what really happened."

Steve started laughing, so I smacked him again. "It ain't funny! They called the cops!"

I expected him to get serious, but that just made him laugh hard. "And look at you now, a little juvenile delinquent."

I crossed my arms across my chest and rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Steve..."

"Well, that explains why Two-Bit's mom was ripping her a new one," he went on. "Glory, it was mighty entertaining. I thought Two-Bit was gonna piss himself."

"She get in a lot of trouble?" I asked. I don't know why I was worried about her after everything. I should be glad if she _did_ get in trouble. She deserved it way more than me. Her efforts to please Angela were getting ridiculous, and it was time she started acting like herself again.

"Sure sounded like it," Steve said.

"Yeah, I got in trouble too..." I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, hoping he would and wouldn't ask about it at the same time.

That's when Steve stopped joking. "How bad?"

I continued playing with my hair to stall, but he nudged my arm and gave me a look.

"The worst ever," I said just to be melodramatic. I still wanted to feel sorry for myself, even if I was being a baby about it.

"Hey, I'm serious," he said. "Be honest."

I shrugged. "I dunno, Steve."

"What you mean you don't know?" he demanded. "What happened? He hit you?"

I curled my lip under my teeth. "Kinda."

"Kinda?" he kept on. "That's a pretty straightforward yes or no question, Jule."

I nodded.

"So that's a yes?" he asked, and I could hear the outrage creeping into his voice.

"He gave me a lickin', yeah," I told him. "You don't have to worry though... It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be." I wasn't trying to defend Dad, but at the same time, I knew Steve might start an awful argument with him and get himself kicked out. It was probably inevitable, but I had to try and stop that.

He looked relieved, which comforted me somewhat. I guess he was expecting worse too. "Nah, but I kinda wanted a good fight today," he said with a chuckle. He was joking. At least I hoped so.

"Steve..."

"Thought maybe I could get one in with him," he said, ignoring me.

"No." I shook my head firmly. "Honest, it wasn't that bad. I think he was just worried 'cause he didn't know where I was before that."

"'Course it wasn't that bad," Steve agreed. "You're a girl. He'd go easier on you."

"But it was still bad!" I flipped right from wanting to downplay the story to wanting to embellish it. If he wanted to play the comparisons game, I had to have something to contend with, even if I knew he'd win hands down anyway. Dad was downright scary when he fought with Steve.

Steve sighed and ruffled my hair a little. "Yeah, and I'mma give him an earful about it, believe me."

"Really?" I shouldn't be hopeful about that. Not even a minute ago, I worried about them fighting, but I guess the desire for retribution was stronger than I thought.

He nodded, the look on his face completely serious.

I sighed and shook my head at him. "Probably only 'cause you want a good fight..."

He pinched my arm. "Hey, it's more than just that."

I knew that. I knew he was only joking when he'd said it in the first place, but I was all over the place right now. I couldn't get my thoughts straight.

"Promise me you won't get yourself kicked out, though?"

"I won't," he assured him, but not even ten minutes after he walked out of my room, it happened.

He did what he always did: say the most hurtful thing he could possibly say and then yell about it until he was blue in the face.

I cried when I heard the door slam shut, and a couple minutes later, Dad showed up again.

He didn't say anything to me. He just stood there and watched me cry for all of a minute, but when he left I swore he might look like he was on the verge of tears himself.

Once I knew he was gone for sure, I got up and locked the door.

I spread myself out on the bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever. The tears rolls down my cheeks and pooled on my pillow. I didn't bother wiping them away. I just laid there and thought about things, lots of things; everything that happened tonight and then some, and I realized running after Rachel wasn't the stupidest thing I'd do tonight, not if I put the plan in the back of my head into action.

I couldn't stop thinking about it, about getting out of the house. It was stupid, but I couldn't stand this room anymore. I'd been in here all night, and there was only one place Steve went when he got kicked out, so I figured I'd sneak out my window and follow him there.

Like I said, it was stupid, stupid, stupid, but I couldn't stop my feet from doing it.

In some desperate idiotic move, I _did _climb out my window, and I _did_ start running towards the Curtis's.

I regretted it almost instantly, realizing Steve would be more than just a little mad at me, not to mention what Dad might do to me later, but it was too late now.

I was already a block away.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Thanks all for reviewing! It means a world. Longer chapter. :) Although very intense and such, it was one of my favorites to write. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

I ran, and ran, and ran, 100% aware of what I was doing, regretting it every step of the way. This was an awful idea. Running away was a bratty little kid thing to do.

When Dad figured it out, he'd be awfully mad and probably think it was all because he punished me, which wouldn't be true at all. I was already over that honestly—I'd have to be crazy not to be. My friends would laugh at me and tell me to quit being a baby 'cause all of them got punished the same way, maybe even worse than me too. Angela, for sure. Rachel was probably luckier than me, but I'll bet she was the only one.

Seven blocks away, and exactly one block from the Curtis's, I stopped running and caught my breath. I was far enough Dad wouldn't catch up to me, and I doubt he'd notice I was gone. If I came back some time tomorrow, maybe he wouldn't even notice. I could hope. Last night aside, he hardly noticed when I forgot to leave him notes. My chances were bet-worthy there, but Steve, oh God, Steve'll kill me. He'd be sure to tell me exactly how immature I was later in addition to at least a thousand other things he'll yell at me for.

I was dead; for all I know, Steve could be even scarier than my father, and it was funny to think the reason I did this in the first place was him. Maybe it was stupid, but I didn't want him gone. I couldn't stand the thought of it tonight. Tonight, I needed him home for all sorts of stupid reasons; mostly 'cause I was petrified I might have a nightmare again. But really, I wasn't sure why anymore; there was just this compelling ache in my bones to run after him, and I gave into it.

After a couple moments, I regained the will to run again. I had to get there, and it was scary being out here by my lonesome at this hour. Everything was dark and eerily quiet, even for our neighborhood. When I reached the Curtis's, Steve's car wasn't in the driveway, and I began to panic. I went through all this effort, and he wasn't even here? I needed him to be here, even if he'd holler at me.

I sat on their porch and sucked back tears, debating if I should even knock. The severity of what I'd done hit me even harder. Why'd I have to be a big baby? Why couldn't I have just stayed home? This had to be about the most rebellious act I'd ever pulled, but I didn't mean to be a rebel. I just didn't want Steve gone... Not tonight. It could happen another night, anything but tonight. That's why I begged him not to get kicked out, and he just had to go and say all sorts of hurtful things to Dad. I hated it. I especially hated it when he picked fights over me. Sometimes he truly did seem concerned, but others, it seemed like he just wanted to fight about something. Glory, did he ever resent our father... I understood why, but Dad tried at least. He'd tried to hug me, and I was the one who shoved him away. Maybe I really did want that hug; I was just too stubborn to admit it.

The door swung open. I held my breath, too afraid to look back, and when I didn't hear yelling, I assumed it couldn't be Steve. For one, his car wasn't here, but two, he'd yell at me right away.

"Hey, weren't you one of the girls who left at the movie tonight?"

I recognized the voice as Ponyboy's and slowly turned around to face him. "Yeah."

"Shoot, I know you, your Steve's sister, right?"

I nodded, a little embarrassed I was actually talking to him. Rachel or Angela would kill to be me right now, and I guess I didn't blame them, seeing as he was cute, but how cute he was was the last thing I wanted or needed to be thinking about.

"The heck're you doin' here at this hour?"

I swallowed and opened my mouth to answer, but before I could find my words, his brother approached him with an angry look on his face. "Ponyboy, it's dang near two in the morning."

I'd only met Darry once or twice, but I knew it was him because he was muscled and huge. Steve said he was a good guy, but I always thought he was really scary looking.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked his brother in a tone that only added to his scary looks. Apparently he hadn't noticed me yet.

"I was reading a book, and then she showed up." I cringed at the word she, hoping I could just remain in the background, but then Pony pointed to me. Darry gave me one hell of a look when he noticed me, and I felt about one inch tall.

Angry? Shocked? I couldn't tell what he was. Maybe both, and it made me nervous as hell.

"She's Steve's sister," Pony told him, and his expression softened slightly.

Apparently he thought I was just some random kid. Steve and I looked alike, but not enough you'd guess we were related. He liked just like our mom. I could tell from pictures, and I unfortunately was the spitting image of my father if he were a girl.

"Is Steve here?" I asked them both.

Pony shook his head. "He was, but he left a bit ago. Think he was gonna see his girlfriend of somethin'..."

"So he's at Evie's?" I guessed. I knew where she lived. Maybe I could walk there...

"Who're you guys talkin' to?" I heard Soda ask from several feet away.

"Steve's sister," Darry informed him, and I realized that'd probably be my name for the rest of the time I stayed here—_Steve's sister_.

Unlike his brothers, he walked up to me and pushed me inside. I guess he wasn't as shy around me since he was my brother's best friend. "What on earth are you doin' here?" he asked impatiently.

I shrugged.

"Oh, c'mon, you have to know why."

I shrugged again, and he gave me a look to rival the one Darry had given me earlier.

"I was lookin' for Steve," I admitted.

Soda scratched his head. "Glory, he's gonna be awfully pissed at you showing up here and all... It's pretty dang late, kid. You could've gotten hurt on the way."

"I know," I said, starting at my feet.

"Man, I wouldn't wanna be you when he gets back here." I knew I wouldn't want to be me either, but I needed to see Steve. I'd just have to wait out his anger.

"Maybe I oughta take you home before he gets back here..."

"No." I shook my head firmly. "Please, my dad'll kill me." Maybe that was an exaggeration, but I went through the trouble to get here, and I didn't want to head back this soon.

"You sure about that?" he asked, crossing his arms. "'Cause I know your brother, and I think he might kill you worse."

"Please," I begged him. I tried hard not to cry, but I knew I was tearing up. "Please, Soda, I don't wanna go home."

He massaged his temples, and I could tell he was thinking hard about it. "Well, alright," he agreed finally. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

I was too relieved I forgot to thank him. "When's he coming back here?" I asked.

"Soon," Soda told me. He pointed to their couch, and I assumed that meant me wanted me to sit down, so I did.

"I'll wait up with her," he told his brothers. "You guys go back to bed."

They obliged, and I didn't blame them. It was damn late. "You can go to bed too if you want," I told Soda, not liking the thought of him keeping himself up just for me.

He sat down and sighed. "And leave you here to face that brother of yours alone? Forget about it... What made you think this was a good idea anyway, huh?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just kept silent.

Not even a minute later, he pushed again. "Hey, you can't just show up and not offer anything. What was it?"

"Steve got kicked out," I said quietly.

Soda raised an eyebrow. "If that's why, I'm mighty surprised we don't see you here once a week then."

"I just didn't want him gone tonight," I added, not knowing what I wanted or expected of it. For him to be as nice to me as he was the night before? I didn't know, but I didn't feel like talking about any of that, especially with his best friend. "I don't like it when he's gone," I added, hoping he wouldn't press for more.

I practically shook from frustration and trying not to bawl, and I think Soda noticed. He patted my shoulder and gave me a slight smile. "Yeah, I'll bet."

We both fell into an awkward silence. It was weird seeing my brother's best friend without him here, and just like with Ponyboy, lots of girls would kill to be sitting next to Soda right now, but really, I didn't want to be here.

"He sure talks about you a lot," he added.

The shock stopped the urge to cry immediately. "He does?" I knew he cared about me, but this surprised me, if not outraged me a little. He shouldn't be telling his friend personal stuff about me.

"He sure does."

I rolled my eyes. "Probably tells you how annoying I am..."

"Nah," Soda told me. "He just gets worried sometimes."

I was half-convinced Soda was lying to me until I really thought about it. "I don't mean to worry him..." But if I kept doing stuff like this, I would.

"It ain't a bad thing," Soda said. "Just means he cares."

"Yeah, well, he's probably gonna scream at me for a half hour straight when he sees me here..." I was already miserable, and couldn't stand the thought of facing him, but would could I do now? I wanted to see him, I was about to get that shot.

"I dunno about _that_, but yeah, he's probably gonna be hacked." Steve did say Soda was annoyingly optimistic, and I could see why. Hacked was an understatement.

For the split second running out seemed like a good idea, I thought he might blame Dad for it all and hug me or something corny like that, but thinking about it now, I'd probably wonder what happened to him if he did that. As much as I'd appreciate it, I'd figure he'd gone insane.

"Don't worry about it too much, kid," Soda tried to assure me. "I'm sure he'll get over it eventually."

"I hope so," I said, but Soda's words were hardly comforting. He was Steve's best friend. He should know firsthand how bad Steve's temper was. Eventually, sure, but definitely not tonight, and maybe not even for a week.

It didn't keep my from hoping though. Each time I got scared, I reminded myself how badly I wanted to see him, and when Steve showed up, I hoped for a good reaction even more.

Soda patted my shoulder again as if to say good luck, which told me even _he_ knew he was wrong when he said Steve'd get over it.

And he was too. Steve stormed up to me almost immediately, grabbed me by the arm, and yanked me off their couch. "The hell're you doin' here?" he demanded, keeping a good grip on me.

He squeezed my arm harder when I didn't answer. "What're you doin' here?"

"I dunno."

Apparently that wasn't the answer he was looking because he glared at me something awful, like he wanted to hit me, and he probably would've done it if Soda weren't standing there.

"You got five seconds to give me a real answer," he grumbled.

I hesitated.

"Three now."

"Steve!"

"Two … one ..."

"Okay, okay... Just give me a second to think."

"Five was enough."

Five was hardly enough. "I … I just wanted you to be home tonight," I said. "And you promised me you wouldn't get kicked out!"

"So you chased after me then?"

I nodded.

"This late at night? You think about all the things that could've happened to you?"

I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks now. I couldn't control them now that he was actually here. "I just wanted to see you."

"You saw me plenty before I left," he said. "What makes you think you got the right to follow me, huh?"

I wiped at my eyes. I couldn't answer that.

"Answer me," he said through gritted teeth, and when I didn't, he cuffed me upside the head. "For Christ's sakes, if you know what's best for you, you'll explain yourself _now_."

"Steve..." Soda said. I didn't realize he hadn't left until I heard him. "I don't think she's lyin'."

"Stay out of it," Steve told him harshly, and then he flipped back to me. "If that's the case, how's it working out for you? Does it look like I wanna see you? You think you can just do this every time I leave?"

I couldn't answer that; I just wiped tears off my cheeks, wondering if they were annoying him more.

"And what for? 'Cause Dad let you have it?" he went on. "If you think you're gettin' any sympathy from me, you're sorely mistaken. Think I do shit like this every time he hits me? Jesus Christ, kid... You'd think you were the first kid in the world to get it. Hell, the only kid I know who hasn't is Ponyboy, and—"

"Hey, leave my brother out of this," Soda cut him off, taking a few steps towards him.

Steve glared at Soda. "If you want me to stay out of it, you damn well leave him out of it too," Soda added.

"Fine, maybe that was crossing the line, but—"

"Just that?" Soda demanded. "Honest, you're crossing the line all around!"

Steve groaned and started dragging me towards the door with him. "Let's _go._"

"Why?" I asked anxiously.

"'Cause he can't learn to mind it own damn business. That's why."

I dug my feet in the ground and pulled in the opposite direction. I didn't know why I wanted to come in the first place now. This was awful, and I didn't want to imagine what he might say or do when he had me alone.

"I said let's go," he repeated, dragging me hard enough I nearly tripped.

He just yanked me up with no regard for how much he was hurting me and kept dragging.

"Please." I couldn't resist the pull anymore and cried harder.

"Shut up," he growled and smacked me again.

I worked up enough strength then but only barely to yank myself out of his grip, and once I had, I tumbled to the floor.

Steve reached down to grab me again, and I flinched away.

Soda shoved him away. "Look at her," he said, pointing to me. "Is this what you want? She's downright petrified of you right now, and you'd have to be an idiot not to see it!"

I hated to think Soda was right, but he was. I was truly and honestly afraid of Steve. I couldn't remember the last time I felt quite like this around him. He was mean sometimes, but not this mean, and I wasn't sure I could handle it. I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. Running after him was a horrible mistake.

Steve shook his head and pushed past Soda toward me, but Soda shoved him again, and he stormed out in a fit of rage. I didn't hear the his car engine, so I assumed he was only smoking a cigarette or two.

Soda crouched down in front of me. "You okay?"

I nodded, even though I was about the furthest thing from okay.

"You hold tight," he said. "I'mma go talk to him."

I didn't say anything. I curled up there on the floor and cried as quietly as I possibly could, careful not to wake the others up. For all I knew, Steve probably already did.

I could hear them argue faintly. It sounded like Soda was winning, but I couldn't be sure.

xxxx

I must've fallen asleep on the floor, because I woke up to Steve lifting me up. I tensed up, still shook up about before, wondering if I could actually trust him. "Steve, where're you taking me?" I mumbled.

He set me down on their couch. "Just here," he said. "Figure it's better than the floor."

I didn't have the guts to ask him if he was still mad or not. He didn't look it, but I couldn't be sure.

I curled up against one of the pillows. "Go back to sleep," he said. He sat on the floor with his back pressed against the couch.

"I can't." I was tired before, but now I was awake.

"You haven't even tried yet," he told me, not even turning around.

"But I just know I can't," I insisted.

"Alright, well, if you're not gonna sleep, we're gonna talk." He got up and pushed me up, so there was room for him to sit. "Before I say anything else, I ain't standin' up for you, so you best hope Dad's in a good mood or too clueless to even realize you were gone."

I nodded, so relieved he wasn't screaming at me anymore, this didn't seem too awful.

"You can't do this kind of shit," he went on. "You have idea how dangerous it is for a young girl like you to walk around at night alone? You _should_ after what you told me last night."

"I know."

"Apparently you don't or you wouldn't have done it."

No, I did understand. I just didn't think about that; there was a difference.

"So why'd you sneak out?"

"Same reason I told you earlier..."

"Yeah, but why?" he continued. "Why'd you wanna see me? You had to know I'd freak out..."

"Yeah, but I just … I dunno." I couldn't finish my sentence. I was too tired, for one, and anything I'd say would probably sound like a stupid reason to him.

He scooted closer to me, and though I didn't expect it, slung his arm around me. That's when I finally felt comfortable enough to ask my question. "You mad at me?"

"A little," he admitted. "I still don't get it. Why you thought it was worth it to sneak out just to see me... It's awful stupid if you ask me, so yeah, I'm a little pissed at you, and you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Little sounded like an understatement the way he said it, but at least he wasn't yelling. I rested my head against his shoulder, relieved he wasn't as irritated as he was before. He sighed and brushed my hair off my cheeks with his free hand. "I didn't mean to scare you."

It seemed like he did, but I'd let him save face if it meant he'd be nicer to me. "I know."

"You better not do this again though, or I'll have half a mind to beat the tar outa you myself."

I knew he was only half serious, but the words still resonated negatively.

"Try to get some sleep," he told me not even a second later. Great, Steve, move right from telling me you'll beat the tar out of me to saying I should sleep? As though I was supposed to fall asleep to that image...

I think he expected me to lay down, but I didn't want to move. He didn't shove me away, so I stayed were I was and hugged him tighter.

He groaned, just as annoyed as he always was, and I could tell sitting next to me was about the last thing he wanted to do right now, but he let me anyway. I don't know why that was comforting, but it was. It really was.

I slept well for the three short hours I slept, and it seemed like first thing in the morning, he drug me home.

xxxx

_Saturday, November 5th, 2013_

Dad about lost it when we got there, and I immediately recalled what Steve told me about not standing up for me. Dad yelled and yelled and yelled at us both, especially me, before I could even get a chance to say anything. I knew Steve wouldn't defend me, but I was shocked he said nothing for himself.

When he stopped hollering, he glared at me to say something. "I'm sorry, Dad," I said quietly. It was all I could say.

"Not as sorry as you will be," he said, and I could see the fire in his eyes. I panicked as bad as I did with Steve last night, maybe even worse.

"Hold on." Steve stepped forward. "I told her to come after me if you kicked me out."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Oh, I dunno," Steve said harshly. "Maybe because of the way you're acting right now.

"Shut up." He turned away from Steve and glared at me. "That true?" Behind him, Steve gave me a slight nod as if to say he'd changed his mind.

"Yeah." I hated to throw Steve under the bus like this, but I couldn't help myself.

They started arguing, and I hated myself for letting Steve do this even more. This was my fault, and Steve had told me he wouldn't stand up for me. Why he was now, I didn't know, but after a minute or two of intense bickering, Dad stormed out saying he had to work. Steve and I both knew that was bullshit because he didn't have his work clothes on, but I was happy to see him go.

As soon as I was certain he was gone, I turned to Steve. "I thought you said—"

"I did, but I changed my mind," he said quickly.

I gave him a confused look. He was dead serious when he said it last night. "Why?"

"Just did."

"Maybe you shouldn't have..."

"Shut it. He was already pissed at me anyway. He kicked me out, remember?"

That happened all the time, so it seemed like a stupid excuse to cover up the real reason—that he didn't wanna see me get in trouble.

"You owe me huge though," he said. "Next time I ask you to do anything, you better do it. I reserve the right to blackmail for at least a year, I'd say."

I smirked. A year sounded drastic, even for how nice he'd been. "How 'bout a month?"

"How 'bout I chase after Dad and tell him the truth?"

I sighed. "Yeah, a year sounds good."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Please review! Reviews=Best. Motivation. Ever. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

When Dad returned he was lugging in two suitcases. I looked at Steve, and we exchanged glances—somehow we both knew today had just become Rosie's move in day, and neither of us were informed. Bullshit he was going to work. Unless work meant moving Rosie in...

Rosie trailed behind him carrying a box. She smiled at me and didn't even bother glancing at Steve. Nothing had changed, except me. She and Steve would hate each other, she and Dad would probably fight, and somehow I'd have to learn to get along with her or face the wrath of my father.

She set the box down and walked up to me. "Hey, sweetie," she greeted. "I thought you and I could go shopping later today. You can help me pick out things for the baby."

"That's okay," I said, looking away from her. I couldn't stand to see that smile, that fake, nicey nicey smile.

"Julia, it'd be good for you two." Dad put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it enough to let me know I'd better change my mind.

"Okay," I obliged, but I didn't sound enthusiastic at all. This sounded like hell in the making. An entire day of just me and her shopping? No thanks.

Dad turned me around and started leading me to his room. It caught me offguard, but I followed anyway. "I wanna talk to you," he said. I got nervous when he shut the door, wondering if he was gonna yell at me or punish me or something. You really never knew with him. Sometimes he looked pissed but wasn't and others he'd flip from happy to irate so fast you'd think he was mentally unstable.

"Sit," he told me, pointing to his bed. I expected him to stand over me when he talked like he usually did, but instead he sat beside me. "So I'm pretty damn sure you and Steve lied to me about what happened last night..."

My face flushed. I shook my head slightly, as if to say, "No, we didn't."

"Why'd you leave?" he pressed.

"'Cause Steve told me to..." I lied. I'd stick with the story until it was stupid for me to do so.

"I'mma give you _one_ more chance to answer that question," he grumbled. "And if you lie again, you'll be awfully sorry."

I sighed. So much for being rebellious. I stayed silent for a minute, just thinking. I had no clue what to tell him... Anything at this point would probably irritate him more.

"If you don't answer, I'll count that as lying," he added.

"I didn't want Steve kicked out..." I said slowly.

He lifted an eyebrow. "So it wasn't just some selfish act that I punished you?"

I knew he'd think it was that, and honest, it wasn't. "No, I just didn't want Steve gone." I felt stupid saying it now, especially when Steve exploded at first.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

"Honest, I'm curious," he went on. "What makes him so damn special you had to chase after him and worry the shit out of me _again_?" He glared at me for an answer.

I hated it when he did this—interrogated me about why I liked Steve better than him and stuff like that. It seemed childish. Like Rachel trying to make Angela like her...

"You're awful lucky I ain't givin' you a lickin' for that, so you better start talking to me."

"He's nicer to me than you." I'm not sure where that came from or where I found the courage to say it, but I swore he was gonna slap me across the face the way he was glaring at me.

He cranked his head to the side and gritted his teeth. "That so, huh?"

Despite my best interests, I nodded. I thought about what Steve said, about Dad needing to know this, and the courage kept pouring out of me.

"Let me ask you this then, does he feed you?"

I glanced towards my feet and shook my head.

"Does he put a roof over your head? Does me make sure you have clothes to wear?"

I shook my head at both of those too.

"Who does all that?"

"You ..." I said quietly.

"I can't hear you."

"You," I repeated louder.

"Maybe you should think about that before you go pullin' more bullshit like this on me," he said.

I knew he did all that. I really did, and it was why I couldn't hate him, but Steve _was _nicer to me most of the time. Still, if I argued with him, I'd probably get in trouble again. "Okay," I said and inched toward the door. I wanted out of her as fast as humanly possible...

"I'm not done with you." He pulled me back down and kept his hands on me so I couldn't move. "You're grounded for two weeks."

_Grounded_.

I let the words sink in for a second and then looked at him like he'd lost his mind. He'd never said those words to me or Steve before; he'd only ever hit me or yelled at me when I was in trouble. This was different.

And then I decided to be a smartass. "If I'm grounded, I shouldn't be allowed to go out with Rosie."

Apparently he didn't think of that before he decided this because I'd rendered him speechless.

"Guess I'll be spending the rest of the day in my room then?" I asked hopefully.

"You best watch it, young lady," he said, his eyes ablaze. "I could change my mind and put you over my knee just as fast. That what you want?"

Now he sounded more like himself, and I remembered why I should be scared. "No," I said, careful to sound respectful. We were at a turning point. If I pushed more, he'd tip over the edge.

"Then you'll go shopping with your stepmother in a half hour," he said firmly, pointing to the door. "You can wait in your room until then."

Somehow I had the tenacity to ask, "Why?"

He glared at me, as though that was supposed to be my answer.

"_Why_?" I repeated.

He grabbed my arm and smacked me once, hard enough to make me wince, and said, "Because you're grounded."

I knew I was pushing him, but somehow I couldn't help myself. It was like Steve told me once: once you survived the worst of what he could do to you, you knew you could survive it all and you stopped caring. I wasn't as confident as Steve yet and probably never would be, but he seemed a little less scary. Only a tiny amount, but I was proud of myself for realizing that...

He pushed me toward the door and I sighed, trudging the rest of the way to my room.

I shut the door with a bit of a slam and was surprised he didn't chase after me to scream his head off about my newfound attitude.

It opened a second later, and I panicked, thinking maybe I spoke too soon—I guess I wasn't as confident as I thought—but it was only Steve. "Glory, you scared the crap outa me."

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

He scratched his head. "Dad call bullshit on what I told him?"

I nodded again.

"Figured so," he said. "How bad was it?"

"He grounded me."

"What?" He looked even more shocked than when I'd heard the words.

"Yeah, two weeks." I crashed against the bed and stared at the ceiling, realizing this actually blew. I'd be bored out of my mind, Angela would laugh at me when I told her I couldn't go anywhere... Hell, Angela was probably gonna convince me to sneak out at some point, and I might even be inclined to follow her...

"Wow." He starting laughing. "Alright, I guess Charlie wants to be father of the year now..."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, if you wanna get away with murder, now's your chance." I sat up and smirked at him. "And know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"You don't get to blackmail me no more." I gave him the smuggest look I could muster. "I got in trouble anyway."

His facial expression went from amused to annoyed fast. "Hey, that's not how it works..." he said. "It's the effort. You still owe me for a year."

"Uh huh." I crossed my arms. Would it kill him to let me win one argument? "So what're you gonna hold over my head?"

He just glared at me. "When'd you get to be such a smartass?"

"When you taught me how to be..."

"Believe me, kid." He pointed his finger at me as he spoke. "I'll dig up dirt on you, so the deal is definitely _not _off."

He left the room before I could say anything. I took it as a sign he knew I was right, and I smiled so wide, I was glad no one could see me.

xxxx

Rosie drug me to all sorts of stupid stores, and I realized now more than ever, I hated shopping. It was pointless and aimless the way she did it. We had to look at _everything_, and she had to ask my opinion on _every_ item she considered buying too.

She paid lots of attention to baby girl clothes. Each clothing store we went to, it was baby girl clothes.

"How do you even know it's a girl yet?" I finally asked after the third outfit she bought, and I wondered especially where she had the money to buy all this. She didn't work anymore, did she? The only conclusion I reached was Dad gave it to her, and that bothered me something awful.

He didn't have money to give up. We ate plain rice with nothing on it once this week because that was all we had in the pantry...

Rosie didn't answer me, so I asked again. "How do you know it's a girl?"

"I just do," she said so sure of herself.

"How?"

"Well, when you carry a baby inside of you, you just know certain things about it," she explained, "and I know it's a girl."

I think she only wanted a girl so badly because that sounded like a bunch of shit.

"You got a name picked out for her?" I asked.

"Your dad wants to name her Lisa, but I think that's too common of a name, don't you think?"

I shrugged. Lisa sounded okay to me.

"I like Yvette or Jacinta," she said. "Something pretty."

"And what if it's a boy?"

"Oh, honey, it won't be," she assured me. "I know it's a girl."

I rolled my eyes. Thankfully she wasn't looking. For all I knew, she'd whine about how much of a brat I'd become to Dad later.

She flashed plenty more baby outfits in front of me, and only after two hours was I finally able to go home.

xxxx

I helped her carry three bags full of clothes and other baby things. She pulled me into a side hug, and I felt like punching her. If she wanted me to like her again, she could do it without being fake.

"You should go play with your friends, sweetie," she said, patting my back.

I gave her a funny look. Had she not heard a single word Dad said to me earlier? "I can't, I'm grounded."

"Oh, nevermind that." She waved her hand in the air. "Go find that Angela friend and have some fun. I'll talk to your daddy about it."

She winked at me, and I was speechless. Was she stupid? This would certainly piss him off, her undermining him. He never liked it before, and he especially wouldn't like it now. I couldn't resist though. It was perfect. He'd be hacked at her, and I'd even get to hang out with Angela as a result. Win-win for me. Double loss for her.

"Alright," I said and scampered out the door before I could think twice about it.

xxxx

When I got to the Shepard's, Angela answered the door with a mighty impatient look on her face. "Thank Christ you showed up," she said, dragging me inside with her.

"Angel, get your ass back here," I heard Tim boom. He sounded anything but patient.

"You should probably listen to him," I urged her. No matter how many times I'd been over here, he still scared the crap outa me sometimes.

"Oh for Christ's sakes, it's just Tim." She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse, pulling me toward the door. "You hear that, Timothy? I'm goin' out with Julia. See ya around..."

That got him down here and fast. He folded his arms and stared at her, as though he was giving her a second chance to do whatever the hell it was he wanted her to do in the first place.

"For the last fucking time, I didn't steal your fucking cigarettes," she said. Only here would you hear that twice in one sentence. Steve was pretty awful too. He kind of watched his mouth around me, but I'd heard the way he talked around his buddies. Still, the Shepards might even be worse.

I had to smirk too. She was gonna lift cigarettes from a gas station the other night, and she never got any. Hardly surprising she'd take to stealing from one of her brothers...

He kept glaring at her, and I wondered where she found the courage to keep pushing him. "Ask Curly or Earl. One of them problably took 'em." She groaned and tapped her foot impatiently. "Hell, maybe even Ma took 'em. You know she told me she worries about how much you smoke, right?"

He said nothing. That was the funniest thing. I'd seen him do this before. He'd let Angela and Curly wear themselves out before he nailed them with whatever he was gonna say.

She put on her best "I'm hurt" face. "Out of all the people who could've taken them, you're blaming me, your innocent little thirteen year old sister?"

Angela was anything but innocent, and of course he knew it too.

She took a step forward, and he yanked her back by her upper arm, quickly grabbing her purse with the other. She batted her fists at him, but he managed to fish out a pack of cigarettes before she got her purse back.

"Funny I should find this pack of Camels in your purse, huh?" he said. "Would you believe they were the same ones I bought yesterday?"

I laughed, and she gave me a nasty look before flipping her attention back to him. "So I happen to like the same brand as you," she said, and I could tell she was trying not to blush. "That don't mean nothin', and like hell you've ever _bought_ your cigarettes."

"I tell you what, Angel," he said with a smirk. "I feel like bein' nice today. You go put some actual clothes on, and I'll forget this ever happened."

At first I was stunned he was willing to let it go, but I guess if he hadn't actually bought them, there was nothing holding him back from stealing another pack... But of course, he wouldn't pass up the chance to antagonize Angela, and I was glad for it. This was hilarious, but only because she deserved it.

"Yeah, whatever." She grabbed my arm, shooting Tim another glare as she did. "C'mon, Julia."

Tim pulled her back in one move and I stumbled along with her.

"Angel, just put a jacket on or something," I told her. This was not worth pissing off her brother, and why was it that I was the only one who could see that?

"Fine," she grumbled and stormed to her room but not without taking the opportunity to slap Tim's arm as she walked past him.

I stood there awkwardly as she changed. I didn't have anything to say to Tim so I just kept quiet.

He stood by the shut door. I guess he had to see with his own eyes she was clothed before he let her out the door.

"This good enough for you?" she asked him when she emerged, propping a hand on her hip.

He yanked her skirt down an inch or two. "Now it's fine."

She slapped him again and caught up to me, ushering me out the door with her.

"Hey, don't you let me catch you in Buck's again," Tim called after her.

"Yeah, whatever." And with that she shut the door on him.

We walked about a block before she said anything to me. "I think I know exactly where she should go," she said, that awful twinkle in her eye.

"Not Buck's?" I guessed.

"Oh God yes."

I didn't like the sounds of that. She only wanted to because Tim told her not to. That had to be the reason... I wasn't even sure we were allowed in there with how young we were.

And did she think of me at all in any this? Steve would _kill _me me, but that never seemed to be a top priority of hers.

She started walking faster.

I stood still for a moment, debating if I should ditch her now while I had the chance.

She flipped around and stared at me. "You coming or what?"

I sighed and followed her.

* * *

I just had to add on to the Shepard scene at the end. Mars on Fire mentioned the Shepard comments in her reviews today, and I couldn't resist. Don't encourage me, guys! Seriously, I'll take any excuse to add more. :P

Anyway, thanks a million for the reviews! I appreciate them so much. Keep reviewing, and I'll be the happiest gal alive. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

I changed my mind a minute later.

There was a _strong_ chance Steve could be there; besides, even if he wasn't, a friend of his might be, and maybe they'd recognize me and tell him they saw me later. I didn't know. Most of his friends didn't know me, so it could be a farfetched worry, but it wasn't a chance worth taking either way. Steve told me he'd skin me if I came within ten feet of the place once. He wouldn't even give me a chance to explain myself before he started yelling—_that's_ how bad it would be.

But it wasn't just Steve. I didn't like the thought of going go Buck's in the first place. I hated thinking of myself as a little kid, but when it came to this, I'd use anything to get out of it, including saying I was too young to go. Steve told me about the wild things happened there; any way I looked at it, this was a horrible, horrible idea.

"Angela, I don't wanna go..." I said, catching up to her. She was walking so fast, it was a struggle to keep up, and I wondered why she was in such a hurry to get there. I mean, obviously it was an act of defiance against Tim, but it seemed like there might be something more to it. You never knew with her. Her motives varied and changed at any given minute, or at least it seemed that way to me.

It became clear after a couple seconds of silence, she was ignoring me. "Angel!" I snapped. She didn't have to be rude just because I was honest with her.

She shot me a dirty look and walked faster. I could just strangle her. "Angela, why're you always dragging me along?" I asked. "You're always getting me in trouble. I'm sick of it!" I didn't know where the courage to confront her came from. Maybe because she was ignoring me, maybe for another reason, but I had to put my foot down. I really was sick of this.

She stopped and flipped around. "If you don't wanna go, leave," she said with a shrug.

I crossed my arms across my chest. "Fine, maybe I will."

She smirked and turned around to start walking again. "You won't," she said, so sure of herself. "You never do."

I trudged alongside her, determined not to let her go after saying something like that, but then I grew frustrated with myself, realizing I was proving her right by following. Sometimes I swore she set it up that way on purpose just to get her way.

"See?" She gave me a smug look. "You never do."

"Well, I'm not this time," I insisted.

"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'd love to see this."

That was it. I reached over and slapped her.

I held my breath for a second. I hadn't meant to do that. It was like that time I punched Marie Greenwood. I snapped, and before I knew it, the hit had been thrown and I couldn't take it back... I gulped and stared anxiously for her reaction.

For a second, I expected her to slap me back and yank clumps of my hair out of something. I'd seen her do that and worse to other girls, so why she was only glaring at me after I hit her was beyond me.

And then she spoke. "That all you got?" An awful smirk formed across her lips, and I'd slap her again if I weren't still so shocked I'd slapped her in the first place.

This was the first time I'd _ever_ done that. Maybe I'd pulled her hair once or shoved her over the longhaul of our friendship, but I'd never actually slapped her!

I thought for sure if I ever did that, World War III would ensue, but she didn't look any more irritated than usual. "Listen, Jule," she said. "I've had a horrible day. Tim's an asshole. James dumped me before I could dump him, and I just wanna go to Buck's and try to make him jealous, you know? And I don't wanna have to go alone..."

"How exactly does this involve me?"

"Are you deaf?" She shook her head at me. "I said I don't wanna be alone! If he ain't there, it'll be mighty awkward for me without a friend there..."

I sighed. I still didn't understand why I had to go along with her plan, and I really didn't understand why she'd feel awkward when she was constantly ditching me on outgoings to go flirt with boys.

"Please?" she begged. "I don't even think we'll be there that long, and it's dangerous to go there by yourself when you're a girl..."

I rolled my eyes. She never worried about anything being dangerous before. Why now? I mean, it was true, and I'd be lying if I said I never worried about her safety with all the flirting she did, but what would me being there help? I was just a little twelve year old. I couldn't beat anybody up. The fact people knew her brothers was better protection than I'd ever be... I couldn't be sure, but I'd guess that was only of the only reasons she hadn't walked herself into considerable trouble yet. People knew if they took advantage of her, they'd answer to Tim and Curly's firsts.

"Please, Jule," she tried once more. "C'mon, you _slapped_ me for Christ's sakes, you owe me something as an apology."

I curled my lip under my teeth. She had a point. Regardless of how much she'd provoked me, that was a pretty awful thing to do.

"C'mon," she insisted, tugging me alongside her by my arm.

I didn't fight it.

xxxx

Within five minutes of arriving at Buck's, she put her plan of making James jealous into action, which left me to sit at table alone. I kept an eye on her from where I was. She was talking to somebody cute—I didn't know who—but he seemed to be into her. I also glanced around a lot to make sure no one I knew was here.

Lots of people gave me funny looks, and I could safely assume they thought I was too young to be here. Glory, I wanted to leave so bad, but unfortunately I didn't know my way home from here. I guess I'd been too irritated at Angel to pay attention to which ways we were walking, and now I was paying for it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Soda walk in, and I ducked my head, praying he wouldn't notice me. If he was here, Steve already was or was on his way. My stomach ached like I might throw up, but by some miracle he didn't notice me. Maybe I was safe where I was for now. I was tucked away in a corner at this table, and Soda seemed like the kind of guy who wanted to be near the action, but I knew I'd have to sneak out unnoticed eventually. I couldn't wait for Angela to be done doing whatever it was she was doing or I risked Steve seeing me.

Several minutes passed painstakingly slow, but Soda still hadn't bothered to glance in my direction yet, and I thought _here's my chance_. I pushed myself up to make my move, and that's when I noticed someone had sat down beside me.

It wasn't Soda or even Steve, but at the moment I wished it were.

"Long time no see," he said. "Julia, wasn't it?"

I just stared. Of all the people I could see here, _him_. Larry.

Somehow as nervous as I was right now, I knew it was fitting. He would be the type to frequent here, and I knew exactly what Steve meant when he said sketchy things happened here now. "Shame it weren't longer," I eeked out, my voice barely audible.

My breath was shaky, like my lungs had collapsed on me, and in a desperate dash, I bolted away, only for him to grab my wrist and pull me back. "Hey, wait up," he said. "I wanna apologize."

Bullshit he wanted to apologize, but I froze, not knowing what to do. The longer he held on to my wrist, the more afraid I became. I glanced around Buck's and told myself I'd be okay. There were other people here, and he wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything in front of all these people; at least I didn't think he was.

I inched back slowly and took a seat in the car opposite of him, so I didn't have to sit in the one right beside him, but it didn't matter... He moved over a seat. "That night, it was just the booze," he went on, but I didn't believe him one bit. "I'd never do that on purpose."

I didn't say anything. My voice wouldn't let me.

"I really do like you though," he said. "So glad I ran into you here in fact..."

I wished more than anything he'd shut up and leave. I prayed silently he would over and over and over again, but no such luck—he kept talking. "So maybe we could start off on a better foot and just be friends?"

I shook my head. No. _Never_.

"C'mon, don't be like this. We didn't even go all the way."

It didn't matter. He would've. He could say whatever the hell he wanted to to make himself feel better, but he _would've_, and that was all that mattered to me. He didn't get a second chance after that.

I started crying out of frustration. God, this was mortifying, breaking down in front of him and everybody here. I folded my arms atop the table and buried my head in them, shielding my face from any onlookers.

Larry put a hand on my shoulder a second later, and I flipped.

"Don't touch me," I screamed, shoving him away as hard as I possibly could.

Everyone fell silent, and I gasped, realized I'd yelled loud enough to make a scene.

Soda finally noticed me. He rushed up to the table and jumped down Larry's throat almost immediately. "The hell're you doin' with her?" he demanded.

"Nothin'..."

"Butllshit. Why'd she scream then?"

"I dunno, but honest, I didn't—"

"She's twelve you sick bastard," Soda cut him off, grabbing a hold of his shirt collar.

"Woah, buddy, jus—"

Soda didn't give him another chance to speak before he punched him in the face, not once, but twice, and the second time, he knocked him out of the chair and unto the ground.

When Larry got up, another guy—I didn't know who—tackled him and threw several more punches. Whether it was because they were really upset about what Larry did or they just wanted a fight, I didn't know, but I was damn glad for it.

Soda grabbed my arm and drug me all the way outside. "Shoot, kid," he said, shaking his head. "I tell my kid brother I better not catch him dead here, and he's fourteen. You're what? Twelve years old and a _girl_?'

I said nothing. He actually looked pretty hacked, and it scared me a little.

"You on some kind of personal mission to see how bad you can piss your brother off?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Sure as heck seems like it..."

"Sorry," I said quietly. "You didn't have to do that for me... I mean, punch him..."

"Oh, forget that," he rambled on. "Honest, it felt good to punch somebody. What I wanna know is what the heck possessed you to go in there in the first place?"

"I didn't wanna." I wiped a couple tears off my cheeks. "Angela drug me here, and I dunno how to get home from here... and I just …" I trailed off, too shook up to talk coherently.

"Hey, it's alright..."

"Where's Steve?" I managed.

"Two-Bit's probably, I ain't sure." He chuckled lightly. "Glory though, you should wanna be as far from him as possible after this..."

I said nothing, and he nudged my arm. "C'mon, I'll take you home..."

"No." I shook my head firmly. "Just … wherever Steve is, take me there."

He scratched his head and sighed.

"Please," I added.

"Well, alright..." he said, leading me to his truck. "I still don't get why you wanna see him when he's gonna rip you limb from limb, but alright, I suppose."

I didn't answer him. To be honest, I didn't know why myself, but it seemed better than going home.

xxxx

Steve was at Two-Bit's, and he looked mighty confused when he saw me.

Before he could say a word to me, I ran up to him and hugged him, tears erupting in giant waves. Embarrassed by my outburst, I tried to suck them back in, but the harder I tried, the more I shook, still petrified from everything that had just happened.

"... the hell?" he said gruffly. "What happened?"

I just shook my head and hugged him tighter. He stood still for moment, but then his arms came around me slowly. "Hey, what happened?"

I tried to answer him, but I couldn't find my voice.

"... Soda?" he pressed.

"You're not gonna like it," Soda told him.

"I honestly don't give a shit if I like it or not," he snapped. "_Somebody_ tell me what the hell happened now."

Soda sighed and told him exactly what I'd said to him. I braced myself for Steve to freak, especially when he pried me off him. He held me out an arm length front of him and stared me down. "This kid the same one?" he asked.

I nodded, and that was all Steve needed to know.

"I'll see y'all later," he told all his friends and guided me out the door with him.

I got in the passenger side of his car, and we drove off in silence. He looked angry, but at the same time he didn't—I couldn't tell—and that was the scariest part.

He pulled up to a curb somewhere unfamiliar a couple minutes later and turned off the engine. "Anything you wanna add to what Soda said?" he asked me.

He sounded irritated, but he wasn't yelling.

"I didn't wanna be there..." That seemed very important to me for some reason. I needed him to understand that.

"So what? You let Angela push you around again?" he guessed. "'Cause that's just _great_. Her friendship ain't worth any of this bullshit, and I should hope you understand that now."

I grimaced, afraid this would turn into another "This is why Angela is the worst friend ever" lecture, and if that happened, I wasn't sure I could handle it. "I know, but—"

"No, don't even think about arguing with me," he interrupted. "I'm this close to losing it on you, Jule. _This close_... God, how the hell did you even get in Buck's? You're a little girl for Christ's sakes!"

I assumed it was a rhetorical question and kept quiet. I hated being called a little girl, but in this case, he was probably right.

"After all the times I said stay away from there, you go and do it?" He ran a hand through his hair, his face growing redder. "You think good was gonna come of that? You think I just lied about everything and make this shit up to antagonize you?"

"No..."

"Then what the fuck did you do this for?"

The tears began pouring out of me as hard as when I'd first seen him again. "I didn't wanna go," I said. "I really didn't, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I … I don't feel good, Steve. I think—"_ I'm gonna puke_, I finished in my head.

I clutched my stomach and bolted out of the car, making it out just in time to heave on side of the road. Once I was finished, I sat down a couple feet away from the mess and curled up in a ball.

I heard the car door open and Steve approached me. He crouched down in front of me, tilting my chin up to get a better look at me. "You okay?"

I couldn't even lie this time. Okay was the last word I'd use to describe myself. "No," I said, shaking my head.

He sighed and picked me up off the grass, setting me back down in the passenger seat.

He got in the other side and and scooted close to me. "I'm sorry you had to see him again..." he said, and that may have been one of the only times I'd heard him mutter the words "I'm sorry" to me.

"I hope you never set foot in there again after this," he added, the irritation creeping back into his voice. "You damn well learn your lesson this time, you got it?"

I nodded.

"If I hear one word about you setting foot in there again, you'll be awful sorry," he said, his tone too much like Dad's for my liking.

And it reminded me I had to go home eventually. I was grounded. Rosie told me to go, but I couldn't help but be petrified it could still backfire for me.

"Steve?" I asked weakly.

"Yeah?"

"Rosie told me to go hang out with Angela," I told him, sniffling.

"_What_?"

"She did," I confirmed. "Think Dad'll be mad at me?"

"If he is, I'll punch him," Steve said dead serious. "Ain't your fault Rosie oversteps all her boundaries."

My crying picked up again at the thought of them fighting again, especially when I thought of Steve getting kicked out, and I hugged him as tight as I had earlier.

"Hey, you're okay. You got nothin' to worry about." He caught me by surprise, wrapping one arm around me and stroking my hair with his free hand. For some reason, it was okay for me to hug him, but when he hugged back, I had to remind myself it was okay. I didn't have to be afraid of him like I was Larry, and I knew that. My brain definitely understood the difference; why didn't my body?

I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what was happening right now. Not what happened an hour ago, not what might happen in an hour … _Right now_. Steve was being exceptionally nice again; he'd already yelled at me, so he probably wouldn't yell anymore. I might as well enjoy it while it lasted and accept the embrace graciously.

"Well, nothin' to worry about 'cept me blackmailing you," Steve added. "I'm afraid I just dug up quite a bit more dirt. Might have to bump that to two years now..."

I sighed. Just as I was beginning to relax, he had to say something like that.

* * *

Thanks all for the lovely reviews! I appreciate them so much.

I must admit this was a difficult one for me, so I hope I did alright! Feedback would be adored. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own.

This chapter strays off the original line up. Lots of people commented wondering about the aftermath with Charlie, Rosie, and so on, and what did I do? I left that out! :/ Anyway, I wrote out a quick chapter entailing what I envision happened at the Randle home... I'm hoping you enjoy it, and that it's not the useless filler I worry it might be.

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It'd been a half hour since Steve and I got home, and the tension was unbearable. He smoked cigarette after cigarette on the couch, and I sat next to him, refusing to leave his side until I could be 100% sure it was safe to do so. The longer we sat, the more I could tell he was silently irritated I pulled him away from whatever his plans were for the evening. He always had big plans on the weekends, especially if he wasn't working..

I felt bad—I hadn't intended to ruin his night—but I was also relieved he wasn't angry. At least not at me. He probably intended to kill Larry for real this time, and I tried not to think about what kind of trouble he could get himself into.

"I can't fuckin' believe this," I heard Dad bellow from the kitchen. "I ground Julia and you tell her she can go out?"

It was an awful feeling knowing people were talking about you. You never wanted to listen because the things they said were terrible, but at the same time, you couldn't stop curiosity. Whenever I heard my name, I had to listen. It attracted me like a magnet and wouldn't let me go.

"Well, all she does is sit around here!" Rosie screeched back. "People probably think she's weird. Excuse me for wanting her to have a social life."

I cringed at her thinking I was weird. She was crazy. I shouldn't care about her opinion of me, but I didn't like hearing something like that about me no more than any girl my age did. I wondered if they realized I could hear them. From the sounds of it, probably not.

"Hear that?" Steve elbowed me. "I actually agree with her on something—you're weird."

I elbowed him back twice as hard, and he grabbed my arm. "Jesus, I was joking, Julia..."

"Well … you're an asshole ..." I grumbled. "And I'm _not_ joking about that."

He smirked, and I should've known I'd just amuse him. I hated that. He thought it was funny when I got mad. I thought he was scary when _he_ got mad, so why couldn't it work the other way around sometimes? It wasn't fair.

Rosie and Dad's arguing had grown muffled enough I couldn't make out what they were saying, but Dad was awful irate with her, so irate I was afraid that anger might transfer to me when he was done with her.

"Hey." Steve tapped my shoulder and put out his current cigarette. "Tell me exactly what happened in Buck's."

I curled my lip under my teeth. I'd only stopped crying an hour ago, and I didn't wanna think about it anymore.

"C'mon," he urged. "You pulled me away from any sort of a social life I could've have this evening, so the least you can do is explain..."

Of course he guilted me with that. "Sorry..." I said quietly.

He shook his head. "Don't apologize, just tell me."

I took a deep breath. "I thought Soda already did." He hadn't said every detail, but he'd certainly said enough.

"Yeah, a rather simplistic version..." Steve said, lifting an eyebrow.

I took another deep breath, reminding myself I vowed not to cry anymore tonight. I could tell him and not break down. I had to, but where to start? "At first I thought Angela just wanted to piss Tim off 'cause he told her not to go there," I explained. "But then she said she wanted to make her ex jealous or something, and I dunno."

"So that's how you ended up there," he said. "And then?"

I put my elbows on my knees and planted my forehead in my hands. "She ditched me, and I was alone at a table..." I sighed. The Larry part. I just wanted to stop here before I completely lost it, but this was the part he was most curious about, and I knew I couldn't. "Larry came and sat by me, and said this stuff 'bout wanting to apologize, and I dunno. I just started crying, and he touched my shoulder, and … I dunno, Steve."

"That's when Soda stepped in?" he guessed.

I nodded.

"Thank Christ for that..." Steve breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Wish I could've done the honors myself, but I'll just have to wail on him again later."

"Just, please don't get yourself in trouble," I practically begged him, thinking about what he'd told me a week ago. The thought of him getting sent to juvie was even worse than him getting kicked out. Unlike getting kicked out, it'd be semi-longterm, semi-primate. "Please Steve."

"Hey, I beat the shit out of people for the hell of it all the time," he told dead serious. "Now that I got a real reason, and a damn good one at that, don't take it away from me."

I sighed. It was safe to say I couldn't stop him if I tried.

Steve put a hand on my shoulder, and I panicked until I realized it was all just leftover jumpiness.

"You okay?" he asked, moving his arm around me. "Shoot, you're quite the crybaby, but I ain't seen even you bawl like that..."

I wished he'd shut up; if he kept saying stuff like this, I _would_ bawl again.

"No more secrets from me either," he kept on. "When shit like this happens, you tell me everything, all the details. Not when you're having nightmares about it later, and then going to Buck's? Glory, I oughta wring your neck for that..."

He gave me a pointed look as he said it, so I knew he meant it.

"You mad at me?" I asked him nervously, even though I already knew the answer. If he'd contemplated wringing my neck, it obviously wasn't good.

"I dunno." Steve tightened his arm around me and ran a his free hand over his face. "Just … forget it, okay?"

I'd take that as a yes; he still was irritated with me. I knew he would be, but it didn't make it easier to hear.

"For the record I'm more pissed at that bastard than anybody else," he added. "Even you, and Buck's, Julia? You _had _to know that'd outrage me... Please tell me you weren't a complete idiot."

"I said I didn't wanna go," I tried to defend myself. It was futile, but the last thing I wanted was him chewing me out right now. I wasn't sure I could handle it.

"Don't change the fact you did," he rambled on. "And if you hadn't, well, maybe this wouldn't have happened."

Tears started to well up in my eyes. Hearing that was worse than any punch he could've thrown at me. The worst think about it was that it was completely true, but I still couldn't help but ask, "So you're saying it's my fault?"

The second the words left my lips, he slapped my cheek, not hard, but hard enough to make the tears in my eyes fall.

"Jesus, no, it ain't your fault there are sick people in the world," he snapped. "All I'm sayin' is you should never go to Buck's 'cause they tend to hang out there, you get me?"

I didn't say anything. I was still took in shocked he'd slapped me to open my mouth. "It ain't your fault, so wipe that thought out of your head," he said firmly. "Or I'll … I'll slap you 'til you see reason. God, it ain't your fault, kid."

I rubbed my cheek. It didn't sting that bad, but as usual, it was more the act itself than the pain.

My first instinct was to get up and leave, but I couldn't find the energy so I just sat there, and the longer I did, the more impossible it became not to break that vow I wouldn't start bawling again. I had to stay strong. Being a crybaby wasn't an option anymore, because I'd already cried more than any human being should in a year in one night.

I scooted away from Steve and leaned against the couch ledge in a failed enough to calm myself down.

Steve groaned and tried to hug me or something. I ignored him and kept myself pressed against the edge of the couch. I didn't want his half-assed apology, not now. Now, it was a stupid apology attempt, and I didn't want to forgive him. I didn't want to forgive anyone, especially Larry.

Steve inched closer to me and I shoved his hand away. For a while he retreated and left me be. I was glad for it.

"Julia," he said, nudging my shoulder.

I glared at him; whether from frustration of actual anger, I didn't know.

"For Christ's sakes stop being a stubborn little brat."

I smacked his arm, but for some reason the insult was oddly comforting. He was damn persistent, and that's when I gave up.

I threw my arms around him and refused to let go. He tensed up, probably surprised as hell, but he eventually did hug me back. "No more Buck's," he said, and somehow I just knew he'd have to repeat himself on that at least a thousand times before he felt satisfied. "I mean that. That better be the last time you ever set foot in there."

"God, you baby the shit out of her sometimes." Dad's voice caught me offguard.

"If you had any idea what happened, you wouldn't be sayin' that," Steve immediately yelled at him. That was about the worst allegation Dad could've picked—one, because of what happened, but even more that Steve wouldn't stand for being called soft in any way. Steve would probably be an asshole to me for a week just to prove him wrong too.

Dad fell quiet for a second, but then he asked, "What happened?"

"I'll let her tell you when she's ready to," Steve replied and then he turned back to me. "Don't feel rushed, Jule, you take your time." I think added the last part just to antagonize our father further, but even so, I wasn't sure I ever would. Explaining to Steve was hard enough; explaining to Dad would be a nightmare.

Dad took a few steps closer to us, and when I got a closer look at his face, I could tell his comment was purely out of jealousy and nothing more. He looked worried actually.

"Can I talk to you for a second, honey?"

I shook my head at first, but then I thought about it and realized I didn't have much to worry about. Steve would probably trail close behind, and even if he didn't, Dad didn't seem in a dangerous mood in the least bit.

I pulled myself up and followed him to his room. Once there, I sat down beside him on his bed. "You mad at me?" I asked him the same I had Steve. I doubted he was—he looked even less angry than Steve—but I couldn't be sure enough.

"No," he assured me, squeezing my shoulder. "Honest, I think it's my own damn fault kinda."

I gave him a puzzled look. "How?"

"Well, I always tell ya you have to listen to her, don't I?"

I nodded.

"And even that aside, what kid wouldn't take advantage of an opportunity like that? I would've when I was your age..."

I stared at him for a couple moments, thinking this had to be a dream or something. Even though I didn't expect it to go awfully, this was different. Too different. "You sure you're not mad at me?" I had to ask again.

"No." He sighed an exasperated sigh. "Shit, you really think I would be?"

I shrugged. Well, considering he had been irritated at me for doing much less in the past, of course I did. What the hell else was I supposed to think given the track history?

I wasn't sure what else to say or do, so I just hugged him quick and left.

Sure enough Steve was nearby the door. "You don't have to get yourself kicked out," I told him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You ain't got a single reason to yell at him on account of me, so I suggest you don't."

"What makes you think I would've?"

I rolled my eyes. "Uh, only every other night of the past six years..."

He mumbled something. Probably a cuss word.

He knew I was right, but still he followed me and tried to convince me in at least ten different ways why I was wrong.

* * *

So, useless filler... Yea? Nay? Voice your thoughts. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Sorry for a short, somewhat filler chapter last time. This one is longer and definitely more exciting, so I hope you'll all forgive me. :)

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After Steve "convinced" me I was wrong and he was right—he didn't exactly convince me of anything, but he thought he had, and that was all that mattered to him—he left. Told me he had places to do, people to see, things to do... I could only guess his usual Saturday night activities, and that was that.

It was only nine o'clock. I shouldn't expect him to stay; the night was still young for him, and if Dad was sober and reasonable, he had no reason _to_ stay, but I wished he would. I wished I could spend time with him just to spend time with him, because lately it seemed like he only dealt with me when he had to, so pretty much when he lectured me or the rare moments I was upset enough he was nice to me. Never just to hang out with me.

When we were younger, he hung out with me more. Whether because he hated our cousins and didn't have many friends in Wichita or because he actually enjoyed being around me more then, I didn't know, but I sure missed it.

Every now and then, we watched cartoons together on Saturday mornings and stuff like that, but it wasn't the same, and even so, I'd still wish he were here more. He was always doing stuff with Soda and Evie, and rarely if ever did he bring either of them to our house.

Soda almost never came here, but Evie did sometimes, I guess; sometimes she'd talk to me too, about girl things or school or anything, really. Those were the best moments. He'd shoo me away and tell me to quit being a pest, but I knew she liked me. You can tell when people talk to you just to be polite and when they actually want to talk to you, and with her, it was definitely the second. Once, she even told me she thought I was very mature for a twelve year old and I'll never forget that.

It earned her instant cool status in my books and made her my favorite girlfriend he'd ever had. Granted he'd only had one other girlfriend, but she was awful. She and Steve fought the three weeks they were together, and she thought I was annoying. I remember her telling Steve that, and though he probably complained something awful about me a billion times before—I knew for a fact he said things to Soda and Evie—he lost it on her. It was a pretty good moment for me until he realized I was listening in on their conversation. Looking back on it, that probably did make me an annoying little sister, but I couldn't help it; when your older brother or sister doesn't tell you much about themselves, you find your ways.

Evie though … Evie could marry Steve right now, and I'd be happy about it. I actually hoped that'd happen so she could be kind of like my sister.

The greatest part about her was that she didn't let Steve walk all over her. And if I knew anything about anything, it was that anybody who could pick an argument against my brother and win was worth admiring. Even if I knew nothing else about her, I'd like her for that reason alone.

A fist rapped against my door, and I rolled over onto my side, hoping I could just ignore it. Since Steve left, I decided I'd spend the rest of the night in my room. "Julia, you gonna spend all night in here?"

For some reason I wished to hear my father's voice, but it was Rosie's. "Come watch TV with us, sweetie."

She pushed the door open a second later and tugged my arm. "C'mon, you look so sad in here all by your lonesome."

"No," I told her as firmly as I could possibly muster.

"Oh, please," she kept on. "It's better than being cooped up."

I rolled my eyes are her. "No."

"Hey, you don't have to get an attitude with me..."

I sat up quickly so I could glare at her. "I wasn't. I just said no.I wanna stay in here so leave me alone."

She glared back.

"_Please_," I added, and maybe it did sound a bit snappy, but I was damn annoyed and didn't care.

"Your tone of voice sounds pretty snippy to me," she said, her forehead crinkling as she spoke. "You know, you should be happy I let you go somewhere tonight. You got to go out and have some fun with your friends while you were supposed to be grounded because of me. Remember that."

I said nothing. If I said anything more, I'd scream or cuss at her. If she thought I had any fun tonight, she was sorely mistaken.

"Don't look at me like that." She crossed her arms atop her belly. "I'm trying to be nice to you."

I let out a loud sigh. "Well, you're doin' a damn fine job of that."

She just shook her head at me. "What happened to us?" she asked, a small hint of concern in her voice. "I mean, we used to get along just fine, and now you're acting like I'm the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Well, maybe you are."

I glared at her for a second, watching her frustration rise, and decided today was gonna be the day I told her exactly what I thought. It didn't matter if it backfired either as long as I got to say my peace. I couldn't help it. I'd lost all patience with her. "How awful do I have to be before you get that I don't like you?" I asked. "Thing are _never_ gonna be okay with us again, Rosie."

Her eyes grew wide. "How dare you say that..."

I'd dare say a lot more. I was only getting started. "I'll say whatever the hell I want," I told her. "You can't just come back here after what you did and expect me to be nice to you. You're the lucky one."

"Oh yeah? How's that?" she asked. "'Cause right now it seems to me I'm getting the short end of the stick..."

"You're lucky my dad's letting you live here when he doesn't even know that baby is _his_."

I could tell that was the final straw for her. "You take that back." She grabbed ahold of my arm and drug her pointy painted nails into it, making me grimace. "You say you're sorry right now."

I wouldn't apologize, not even if she drug my dad in here. "The only thing I'm sorry for is that my little brother or sister might have to have _you_ as their mother. " As mad as I was, even I regretted my choice of words after I spoke them. That was too much. It was all true, but I didn't have to be that harsh.

"That's it." She shook her finger at me. "I'm just about had enough of you and your attitude... You're gonna be damn sorry you ever said anything!"

I expected her to run out of the room and tattle on me to my father like she usually did, and for a split second I thought I might've preferred that.

She was angrier than I'd ever seen her, and for a pregnant women she was stronger and faster than I thought. One moment I was glaring at her, the next she'd pinned me down on my stomach and wailed on me with something she'd grabbed. I couldn't tell what from where I was. She paid little attention to where she was striking. It seemed like she was trying to give me a licking or something like that, but I couldn't tell anymore. She'd just lost it, and I guess that's what you get for insulting a pregnant lady and her unborn child. Still, she _deserved_ it, damn it, but maybe it was wasn't worth it anymore...

I tried to yank myself up, but she held me down in some mad determined state.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" I demanded.

"Teaching you a lesson," she grumbled. "Don't you dare talk to me like that after all I've done for you."

Maybe at one point she'd done a few things for me, but none of that mattered now.

I tried to hold out against my tears, but she was really, really hurting me. I wouldn't tell her I was sorry though no matter how much it hurt.

The door swung open. "What the.." I heard Dad say and not even a second later, he'd shoved Rosie away. "What the hell is this for?"

I pushed myself up and backed myself up to the edge of the wall on my bed. On the floor, I could see one of my shoes and figured that must've been the weapon of choice. It made my stomach churn to think she'd just damn near beat me with it...

"Ask her," Rosie told him furiously, tears streaming down her face. "Ask your ungrateful brat of a daughter what the hell she said to me!"

I panicked. Now he was gonna flip on me. No matter how upset he was with her, what I said was bad enough he'd kill me too.

Dad sat down and pulled me next to him. At first I thought he was gonna slap me or demand I apologize or I didn't know. Anything but hug me, but he did. He wrapped his arms around me and held me there as he kept yelling at her. I couldn't make out all the words he said. His voice was too loud, and my head was pounding. If he weren't holding on to me, I thought I might pass out, but I didn't.

She stormed out of the room not too long after, and then I heard the front door slam. She'd probably left for her sister's or something. I sure hoped so.

"What'd you say to her?"

I swallowed. "Promise you won't get mad?"

He sighed. "Yeah, alright..."

"I … I said a lot of things," I began, but I couldn't bring myself to add anything further. Looking back on it, I was kind of cruel, but I was still too angry to admit that.

"Like what?" he pushed.

"I dunno," I said. "I told her things wouldn't be good between us ever again …"

"I see," he said. "Well, that wouldn't have done it, so keep talking."

I took a deep breath and just decided to be honest. He wasn't yelling at me yet, so I guess I had a better chance than I might ever get. "I said I wished the baby wasn't yours."

"Why the hell would you tell her that?"

I shrugged. "So my brother or sister wouldn't have to have her as a mother..."

"Julia, what the—"

"You said you wouldn't get mad!" I reminded him.

He set me off to the side of him and rubbed his forehead.

I waited anxiously. It wouldn't be the first time he went back on a promise like that.

He shook his head and turned to me. "You got a smart mouth just like your brother, you know that?"

I shrugged. Maybe I did... I just chose to use mine less often.

"I think you should apologize to her later," he kept on. "I know she loves you, honey. Honest, she's just sick on the inside you ain't givin' her a chance right now."

"I ain't sure she deserves one," I grumbled at him. Not an apology_ or_ a chance.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and I could tell he was trying not to lose it on me too. "You're trying my patience something fierce, kid."

I nodded and sat quietly. As much as it stung to do so, I was wtill in pain from her explosion. The last think I needed was him adding to it. No matter how tempting it was to argue with him too, it wouldn't be worth it. Not after the night I'd had. First Larry, now this, and Steve was off somewhere doing stupid things with his friends, I was certain of it.

Dad scooted closer me and wiped a few tears off my cheeks with his thumb. "Oh hell, I don't care what you said anymore, you didn't deserve that," he said and shocked the hell out of me by wrapping me back into a tight embrace. "You alright? She didn't hurt you too bad, did she?"

I didn't answer him. This was too much to take in right now. "I'm gonna talk to her later, okay?" He nudged my arm. "Listen, she's probably just all kinds of emotional 'cause she's pregnant, you know? I don't think this'll ever happen again..."

I wished I could believe him, and as long as I didn't insult her like that again, he was probably right, but it didn't change the way I felt. I still didn't want her back in my life.

Dad was sure trying though. He rubbed my back and spoke all kinds of calm words to me, but I remained silent. If I opened my mouth, more might come out than I wanted.

"It's getting late, honey," he said. "You should probably try to sleep."

He helped me lie down and pulled my covers over me. "If you need anything, come find me."

He stroke my cheek once and got up.

When he was gone, I started bawling as silently as I possibly could. I didn't know why. I should be happy he'd been so nice, but it was just too much and I didn't know how to react to it.

He almost never acted like that with me. I could only remember one other time—when I'd fell off our porch and broke my arm—so I guess it was true... Parents didn't like to see their kids get hurt even if he'd hurt me a few times.

xxxx

_Thursday, November 10th, 1966 _

The next few days passed quicker than I'd have expected. I didn't run into Larry at all in school, and Angela even apologized for what happened that night. She said she wouldn't make me go there against my will ever again, but somehow I knew that promise wasn't going to last very long.

Still, it was nice to know she cared about what happened to me. Sometimes I wondered if she did. It seemed like she was out for herself and herself only, but then she'd surprise the hell out of you and remind you why you kept her as a friend. At least that's how it worked with me.

Rosie was nice to me too and even apologized without demanding a single sorry back from me. I thought it was fake at first and did all in my power to push her away, but she kept trying, and then one day she broke down and cried about it, and I thought maybe Dad was right. So I gave her a small chance. It wouldn't hurt to let her paint my nails or watch TV with me at the very least. I guess, it was a compromise. Deep down, I still wanted her gone, but if Dad was gonna keep her around, I'd have to get used to it.

Steve stayed away from our house except to stop and grab a couple changes of clothes. I stopped to ask him where and why he was going once, but he just told me it was none of my business and that he needed a break from the crazy people who lived here. When he said "people", I wasn't sure he was including me in that group, but it still kind of stung.

Now it was Thursday night, and when he walked through the door, it was the first time I'd seen him in four days.

"What're you lookin' at?"

"Thought maybe you were dead," I teased.

He smirked. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm very much alive."

He grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat next to me at the counter.

I listened to him inhale giant spoonfuls and wondered if he realized how disgusting he sounded when he ate sometimes. Each slurp made me cringe, and then I saw the small smile on his lips; he was doing it on purpose, so I smacked his arm. "You're a real jerk, you know that?"

"Uh huh," he said, and then he got up to pour himself another bowl.

It was tempting to leave so I wouldn't have to listen to it, but this was the first time I'd seen him in a while. Annoying or not, I was glad.

The phone rang just as he'd picked up his spoon. We both looked at each other. Usually in our house, we all sat around until somebody finally got up to answer it.

I wasn't sure where Dad or Rosie were—maybe on a date—but neither were running to the kitchen to answer it.

Finally Steve drug himself up and got it. "Hello?" he said. "No, he's not..."

His facial expression went from annoyed to something I couldn't quite read. He almost looked concerned.

"Yeah, I'll, uh … I'll tell him later."

He hung up the phone and stood next to the wall for a second.

"What was it?" I asked.

"Dad's mom is sick."

I thought about it for a second, and the first thought that ran through my head was I'd never met this lady... why did I suddenly care now? "Sick … how?"

"Don't know."

He walked back over to his uneaten bowl of cereal and put it in the sink.

Maybe he felt the same way I did. We both knew Dad had a pretty strained relationship with her, probably even more strained than Dad had with Steve.

"You gonna tell him later?" I asked, not realizing it was a stupid question until I'd already spoken.

"Well, yeah, I kinda have to... Jeez, kid."

"You think he's gonna be okay?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair and groaned. "God, you're asking me all these questions like I know everything in the entire goddamned universe," he snapped. "I don't know. Probably not."

I bit down on my lip. He didn't have to yell at me. After all, he was the one who always said he knew everything about everything.

"You ever meet her, Steve?" He'd probably yell at me again, but I was curious. I had to know. This lady was my grandmother, and it seemed like some kind of a crime I'd never met her. I'd met my mom's mom, and she was really sweet. It was a shame we didn't see her more often, but I'd never, _ever_ met my dad's mom.

He glanced away for a second and sighed. I didn't realize it'd be that hard of a question to answer.

"Yeah ... Trust me, you didn't miss anything."

* * *

The trouble with Rosie grows and grows, and maybe just maybe I made you like Charlie? If only for a second? ;)

Argh, I hope everything reads okay. It was a bit of a challenge to get the words just the way I wanted with this one. Feedback would be adored. :) Thanks for the reviews so far! They are legit the best update motivation known to humankind.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

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I stared at Steve and shook my head slightly. I didn't miss anything? What the hell was that supposed to mean? She was sick, and I deserved to know something. She was my grandma for Christ's sakes. There must've been an unwritten rule that a granddaughter could know a thing or two about her grandmother. I didn't even know her name. It'd heard it once or twice maybe, but it wasn't tossed around enough I'd remember it.

All I knew is she and Dad had a strained relationship. He avoided talking about her at all costs, and if you asked him anything, he yelled at you, so it wasn't hard for me to believe she wasn't much of a mom, let alone grandma, but Steve could tell me a little more than that, especially if he knew.

"What didn't I miss then?" I pressed.

Steve said nothing; he just got up to leave. "Wait," I called after him. "What's she like?"

He turned around and gave me a look that said I better not mutter one more word about it, but that only made me more curious. "What's so awful that you can't tell me?"

He took a few steps forward. "Jesus, you don't give up, do you?"

No, I didn't; not when I deserved to know something.

"She's just an awful woman, alright?" he said, and it was tempting to ask him what happened that one time, but I retreated back and slunk in my chair.

He was home for now and pissing him off might make him leave again. "Awful woman" might be all I could get out of him anyway, and I knew it was best to shut up while I was ahead.

I expected him to storm out of the room, but instead he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter.

I lifted at eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's bad to say that about your own grandma," he continued, "but trust me, you should be glad you've never met her."

Glad I never met her? How could I have glad I'd never met somebody, especially somebody I was related to … I mean, maybe some people said that about my dad. Sometimes he was kind of mean, but not mean enough I'd want to go without knowing him. "Why?"

He slammed a fist against the counter. "Goddamn it, kid."

"Well, if you never met her, you'd probably want to know something too," I tried to defend myself. "And now she's sick. C'mon, Steve. I mean—"

He held up a hand, and I huffed a sigh. "Fine, I won't ask anything then."

"Like hell you'll leave it at that... Like you _ever_ stop asking questions."

"Then just tell me now." Was it really that hard? I crossed my arms across my chest, and for a second, I thought he might slap me from the way he was glaring at me. I braced myself for it, but instead he took a seat on the stool next to me. "Guess you won't shut up unless I say something, huh?"

For a moment, I felt pretty damn proud of myself. Sometimes being persistent worked with him, but I couldn't let him know that, so I just nodded for him to keep talking.

"I was about five maybe, and Dad took me with him to see her.," he said. " I don't remember much from that visit. Just that she hardly said a word to me and glared at me the whole damn time, and I overheard her tell Dad something..." He rubbed his temples and sighed. "She told him the worst mistake she'd ever made was having him, and God, did he ever look pissed on the way home, so I asked him about it..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," Steve said. "Forget it."

"But you can't just stop a story halfway through..."

"Well, ain't it obvious?" Steve demanded. "Christ, kid, you know our father. He blew up at me. Told me I'd hear her wrong, but I didn't. I _know_ I didn't. You don't forget shit like that, you know? You just don't."

I stared at my hands for a second, trying to process all I'd just heard. "You think she really means that?" Dad had said a lot of hurtful things to me and especially Steve before that he didn't mean, but he'd never anything close to that, and he wouldn't. He did love us, but if his mom said something like that, you had to wonder if she ever loved him...

"I don't know," he said. "But anybody who could say that to their own kid ain't worth knowing, so if she dies, well then, good for her."

Hearing him say that put my stomach in knots. No matter how awful she was, he shouldn't wish her dead. "Steve ..."

"What?" He gave me a pointed look.

I just shook my head. He didn't get it, but that was how he was. Once he stopped caring about you, he just didn't. He was like that with a lot of people, and sometimes I worried he'd stopped caring about Dad too. I wasn't sure. Most of the time it seemed that way, but other times, it seemed like maybe somewhere he still cared about him.

"Is she really dying?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Aunt Rita said if Dad wanted to see her before she died, he'd better get to Kansas soon."

Hearing that made me feel sicker. She probably would die before I ever got to meet her, and as awful as she sounded, I wanted to meet her for myself. If I went by Steve's opinions of everyone before I considered them worth knowing, I wouldn't know a whole lot of people.

"You know, if you want me to help you tell him, I can," I offered. Dad probably wasn't gonna be happy when he heard the news, but he was definitely more patient with me than he was Steve.

"No, don't worry about it..."

How could I not? Any time they tried to talk it turned into a fight. "I think it'd be better if I told him," I insisted. "He wouldn't kick me out..."

"He won't kick me out," Steve told me confidently. "Trust me, he won't. He's an asshole, but he ain't that big of an asshole."

Maybe he was right, but it wasn't worth taking a chance. "Please?"

He patted my shoulder and stood up. "You worry too much."

"Well, maybe you don't worry enough," I told him, but he'd already walked away.

I folded my arms on the counter and buried my head in them, thinking about all Steve had said. It was a lot to take in. Not quite as bad as when he told me what really happened to our mom, but every time he told me something like this, it frustrated me. No one ever told me anything, except Steve, and I had to pester him constantly before he opened up. Just like I had now, and now he we probably annoyed at me.

I almost fell asleep, but Steve came back a half hour or so later. "C'mon," he said, lifting me up by my shoulders.

Once on my feet, I gave him a dirty look, and he pushed me towards living room in response. "C'mon, you're not gonna mope around all night."

"What do you care if I mope or not?" I grumbled. "You weren't even here all week..."

He shoved me towards the couch with more force, and I almost stumbled, but I caught myself and sat down. "It's true," I said, but before I got the chance to say anything more, Rosie and Dad walked in. Maybe it was a blessing. For a minute I thought I might tell him off for staying gone so long, and as good as it'd be to get that off my chest, there was no way it could end well.

I looked at Steve and then at Dad. Steve shook his head at me, and I knew he fully intended to do the deed without my intervention. In fact, the look in his eyes told me I'd better stay out of it unless I wanted him to chew me out later.

"Dad, can I have a word with you for a sec?" he asked. "It's important."

I watched Dad anxiously, waiting on an explosion, but he must've noticed something in the way Steve was standing there that said he didn't wish to fight. Dad grunted something unintelligible and followed Steve to the hallway.

"What's goin' on?" Rosie asked me.

"Dad's mom is sick," I told her. "Our aunt said he better go see her before she dies."

"That's awful... " She looped an arm around me. "Oh, you poor thing, that's your grandma..."

I gave her a weird look. I'd never met this lady, and Dad had to have told her what kind of person she was, hadn't he?

"Don't feel bad for me," I said. "I don't even know her."

Dad came back and motioned for Rosie. "C'mon, I gotta talk to you."

His eyes looked worried, and for a second, I wanted to go hug him, but I didn't. I just watched him and Rosie walk to his room.

Steve came and sat beside me again. "I told you he wouldn't kick me out," he teased, and I smacked his arm. Even if it didn't happen tonight, it was still a legitimate worry any night, and this was serious. An "I told you so" was not appropriate, but then again, this was Steve. I could be on _my_ deathbed, and he'd still tell me he'd told me so if he could find a reason to say it.

"Is he okay?" I asked.

Steve shrugged. "He was talkin' driving up there tonight if that tells you anything."

That told me a lot, and when he came out here and told me himself not even a minute later, I knew for sure he was upset about this, and how could he not be? Despite all that Steve had said, this was still his mother.

"Can I go with you?" I asked him hopefully.

He shook his head firmly, and I curled my lip under my teeth. If I wanted to meet her, my chances were now or never from the sounds of it. How could he deny that from me? "But Dad..."

"No," he told me. "This is something I gotta do on my own."

"Dad," I tried again. "Please?"

"Damn it, I said no.."

I could tell he was losing patience fast, and if I knew what was best for me, I'd stop right then, but I just couldn't. "I've never met her though!"

Out the corner of my eye, Rosie shook her head as if to tell me to stop, and that just outraged me even more. "It ain't fair," I kept on. He had to see reason on this. He couldn't let his mother die without giving his daughter a chance to meet her.

He got near my face and stared me down. "If you say one more word about it, I'll give you something to whine about."

I opened my mouth to say sorry, but apparently that was too much for him. "Shut up."

He held eye contact with me as he left the room. I'd pushed him as far as I could push, and now I'd have to be as stubborn as Steve to try anything.

He had a bag packed minutes later and left just as quick, only pausing to tell me I'd better listen to Rosie while he was gone. Rosie hooked an arm around my shoulder and ran her hands through my hair. She'd been fawning over me all week like this, ever since that night, and I didn't have the energy to tell her to go away right now.

"I sure hope she makes it up there in time," she told me. "I know her sure regrets not getting to see his sister before she went..."

I pulled myself out of her arms and gave her a look. Either she was crazy, or they were all lying to me again. The only aunt I knew was Rita, and she was my great aunt; as far as I knew, Dad only had a brother. There was no talk of a sister.

She sighed. "Shit, of course he never told you."

I shook my head, and she grew flustered. "Well, don't you worry," she said. "That's gonna change. He ain't keeping secrets from out baby if I have anything to say about it..."

For a second she could've won herself back into my good graces, but then it was always about her baby. I wasn't really her kid, so it shouldn't matter to me, but it did. If she cared about me, she should _really_ care about me and not just because it might be good practice for when she was a mother.

Besides, she should've had the guts to stand up to Dad about this a long time ago. She knew how much I hated being left out of the loop because I'd told her so multiple times, and now everything was gonna change just because it was her baby he might keep secrets from? "You don't even know if it _is_ his baby," I snapped. "And you can shut up, 'cause I'll bet you'd be just as content to lie to your kid and tell them he's their father, even if he isn't."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Steve smirk. I thought for sure, he'd left, but I guess not. I was glad. He could back me up on this if he had to.

"You don't have to be rude," she said, face reddening with embarrassment. It definitely bothered her that she didn't know who the kid's dad was, and I knew for sure that was probably the real reason she lashed out at me. I called her out on it.

"It's not rude if it's true."

"You watch your mouth, young lady." She shook her finger at me, and I rolled my eyes at how ridiculous she looked.

"Or what?" I asked her. "You'll beat me like you did last weekend?"

Steve stepped forward, and I knew he would. I'd done this on purpose. With Dad gone, he couldn't get himself kicked out tonight either. "What the hell happened last weekend?"

He glared at her for an answer, and she flipped back to me. "For Christ's sakes, I didn't beat you," she told me. "Tell your brother what really happened. Tell him about what a little shit you were."

He turned to me. "Well?"

I didn't have to worry about him freaking out about any mean thing I'd said to her. Glory, he might even be proud of me, but Rosie didn't give me a chance to explain. "She told me she hoped the baby wasn't your dad's so that it wouldn't have to have me as it's mother," she told Steve, and she really must have lost her mind, because she said it like she expected him to give her some sympathy.

"She was nothing but rude to me," she continued and glanced at me again. "So yeah, Julia, maybe I punished you for your little attitude, but I did not beat you."

"What makes you think you got a right to lay a hand on her anyway, huh?" Steve took a few steps closer. "You ain't her mother."

"No, but I'm the closest thing she has to one," she insisted. "And I love her like she were my own child, so I'd say that gives me lots of rights."

I cringed at her words, wondering if it was for show or if she really did love me, but either way, it pissed off Steve.

"Go to your room, Julia," he told me, pulling me up and shoving me towards it. "Go on."

"No," I told him." If he was gonna scream at her, I didn't wanna miss it, but he silenced me with a glare and pointed to my door.

"Fine," I said and shuffled my feet the rest of the way.

Once there, I slammed the door and pressed my ear to it.

They went at it for quite some time. I couldn't make out everything they were saying because they were both hollering themselves hoarse, but it ended with Rosie leaving. I couldn't tell if she'd made that decision on her own or if Steve had kicked her out. If Steve kicked her out, there was gonna be hell for him to pay later, but at the moment, I didn't care.

When I heard the front door slam, I couldn't be happier.

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Thanks for reading and especially for all the fantastic reviews! I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. It's a little slower, but at least there was a little backstory in there? Ahh, I hope it was interesting enough. Feedback would be amazing. :)

P.S. If you're interested in Charlie's back story, I have a oneshot up called Baseball Cards that goes into it. Otherwise, I'll be covering more of it in this story. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

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I thought about leaving my room, but if Steve asked me to go here, he probably wanted me to stay here. Usually I wouldn't listen to him about something this dumb, but with just him and me here, I didn't want to piss him off enough he'd abandon me for Soda's. He probably wouldn't, but I couldn't be too sure, so I stayed put.

While I waited, I changed into pajamas and flipped through pages of an old Seventeen magazine I'd read to tatters. Angela'd dog-eared all the pages with styles she thought would be good for me. One of them was a pretty dress with a short hem I liked; it came up above your knees, but it wasn't so short I'd feel uncomfortable. It'd make me look older and in style for a change.

All my clothes were boring and frumpy, except for the few items Rosie'd bought me a year ago. Angela told me I could hem all my skirts to be shorter and alter a few blouses. She was actually pretty good at the sewing part of home ec, and now I wished I'd have taken her up on the offer so I wouldn't look plain all the time. I understood why she cared about her appearance now. I used to not, but I guess she was right when she told me I wasn't mature enough to get it yet a year ago... It irritated me then, especially how she still teased me about having a flat chest, but she was right; I was immature.

I jumped when I heard Steve knock on my door. I'd all but given up on him and assumed he left to go see Soda, but now he was showing up. He looked grumpy, but it didn't stop me from asking him something I desperately wanted to know. "Did you really kick Rosie out?"

"No..."

"You sure?" I asked. "It kinda sounded like you did..."

He groaned, already losing what little patience he had. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you hate her?" I guessed.

"Yeah, but I ain't itchin' to give Charlie another reason to slit my throat," he said, taking a few steps into my room. "The things I said to her were bad enough already. Guess she didn't wanna stick around after that..."

"Oh..." Part of me thought he was lying just to cover up what he did. I could've sworn he kicked her out, but maybe I just thought that since Dad kicked him out all the time.

"Yeah, and good for her," he went on. "Nobody wants her sorry ass around here 'cept Charlie, and well, sometimes I don't even know if he does."

It was jarring to hear Steve call Dad by his first name. He'd called him Charlie to his face for quite some time now, but around me, he usually still called him Dad. Apparently he didn't want to bother anymore, and to be honest, it made me a little sad. Even though I was mad at Dad for not taking me to see his mom, I felt bad that his own son was on a first name basis with him already.

Steve sat down on the edge of my bed. "Alright, tell me about what happened with Rosie."

I knew that was coming. It was my own damn fault for bringing it up in front of him, but now I wished he'd drop it. "I don't really wanna talk about it..."

"Too bad. I'll be damned if I don't get the whole story now."

"She gave me a lickin' same as Dad would've," I told him, even if it was hardly true. Dad had never used one of my own shoes against me. Sometimes if I'd really pissed him off, he'd use a doubled over belt, but that was really rare. For me at least. I think he'd always hit Steve that way, so I should feel lucky I was a girl.

"You said she beat you," he reminded me.

"Yeah, and I said I don't want to talk about it," I said through gritted teeth. "Take a hint. Jeez."

He raked a hand through his hair. "Glory, you're so goddamned annoying when you throw out all these cries for help and then act like you don't want it... Make up your mind."

"Well, it's kinda funny now maybe..." I said with shrug. "She hit me with one of my shoes." It wasn't funny. Not then. It hurt, not as much as it could've since as mad as she was, she still wasn't that strong, but maybe someday I'd laugh about the time my psychotic stepmom thought it was a good idea to whack me with my own shoe. Angela might laugh if I told her about it. They threw shoes at each other at her house.

"That ain't funny at all," he told me. "You better not be joking. Did it happen or not?"

I gave a weak nod, and he moved closer to me. "Did Dad know about it?"

I sighed. I guess he was calling him Dad again. "Yeah... He stopped her."

Steve's eyes widened, and he couldn't have looked more shocked if he tried.

"He _really _did," I said. "He was awful hacked at her." Though his niceness confused me at the time, it was easier to be grateful for it talking about it a week later, especially if Steve doubted Dad stood up for me. That alone made me want to defend him.

"Good," Steve finally spoke. "I'd sooner hit you before I let her lay another hand _or shoe_ on you."

I wasn't sure if I should be glad for that or not. It was endearing he didn't want her hurting me again, but at the same time, it'd be nice if he promised nobody would lay a hand on me instead, but that was impossible for this family. We got mad and we threw punches. That was just how it worked, even for me. After all I'd punched Marie Greenwood and Angela Shepard. I was damn proud too, but now it seemed stupid because it made me no better than Steve throwing aimless punches at our father.

I turned back to Steve. "Steve? You gonna leave tonight?"

He shook his head. "And leave you here alone? No way. You couldn't handle it."

I crossed my arms across my chest and gave him one hell of a dirty look. It was funny; I didn't want to be alone, but the second he thought I couldn't be alone, I wanted to prove something. "I'll be fine," I insisted. "You can go if you want."

I kicked myself on the inside. This was stupid, stupid, stupid, and not true in the least bit. I _did _want him here. I just didn't want to admit that because it made me feel like a baby.

"Like hell you'd be fine..."

I glared at him. God, he made it impossible not to argue with him sometimes.

"Listen, after you chasing after me and running off to Buck's, you think I could even trust you alone?"

I shrugged and groaned inwardly. Now he was gonna turn this into a lecture about that... Somehow I knew he'd never let Buck's go, not even after hearing what happened there.

He pinched my arm when I didn't reply.

"Ow, Steve," I hissed, pinching him back. "You overreacted about that..."

I regretted my words the moment they flew out of my mouth. That was just inviting him to chew me out, and I was right. "Excuse me?" he said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Nevermind," I tried, but was too late.

"You're twelve and some sick little bastard wants to sleep with you?" he continued. "No matter _how_ much I explode, there is _no_ way I could overreact to that. I could behead him, and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

Behead him? Really Steve? I did want Larry gone and out of my life forever. Even more than I wanted Rosie out of my life, but kill him sounded awfully harsh. Steve said a few more things. I quit paying attention and nodded to everything he said. That was the fastest way to appease him.

When I could finally get a word in edgewise I took the opportunity to change the subject. "Do you know anything about Dad having a sister?" Asking it was a bit of a risk, considering the mood he was in, but I had to know.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, but let's talk about that another time," he said. "It's getting late."

"No,_ now,_" I demanded. "I'm sick of everyone lying to me."

"It's not lying if nobody ever told you," he said, and I elbowed him. He knew what I meant; he didn't have to be a smartass about it.

"Alright, fine, but then you go to bed no ifs, ands, or buts, got it?"

I nodded. It was weird how parental he sounded at the moment. It made me want to roll my eyes, but this was the best offer I was gonna get.

"First, don't really know all that much about her, so no nosy questions," he explained. "This is _all _I know, so you better be happy I'm tellin' you anything."

"Okay... so what's her name?" I asked. I figured that was as good a place to start as any.

"Julia."

"What?" I snapped. " I can ask her name, can't I?"

He rubbed his forehead. "No, her name_ is _your name."

I thought about it for moment, and the realization gave me goosebumps. "Did he … name me after her?"

Steve sighed. "I really don't know, but I'd assume so, yeah."

"What happened to her?" I kept on. "I mean, how'd she die?"

"What'd I say about being nosy?"

He glared, and I shut up. His frustration was climbing, and if I wasn't careful, he'd not tell me altogether. He'd been mean enough to do it before.

"Well … Dad likes to say she swallowed too many pills on accident."

"On _accident_?" I questioned.

"That's what he says, but I'll leave it to you to decide." He clenched a fist and unclenched it. This was hard for him to talk about, and it showed in every inch of his body, almost as much as when he told me about our mom. Steve didn't like emotional stuff. I didn't either, but he _really_ didn't like it...

"I think it was purpose..."

He turned his head towards me and gave me a small nod as if to say he agreed. "I don't know much else other than that," he added. "Just that they were pretty close."

"They must've been if he named me after her."

I teared up just thinking about it, and if Steve weren't so damn stoic, he'd probably have tears in his eyes too. "Yeah, once when he was real plastered, he told me she was his best friend."

"He must've been pretty drunk to be saying things like that..."

"Yeah, too drunk to bother with being angry."

That didn't happen very often. Usually his temper got shorter and more volatile, but sometimes he got emotional. Real, real emotional. Enough that he stumbled into my room and woke me up to tell me he loved me once. I was seven. I probably didn't understand that he was drunk at the time, but I still remembered that night. It scared me more than his temper.

"Time to hold up your end of the deal," Steve told me.

"What deal?"

"You said you'd go to bed if I told you, remember?"

"But it's only ten o'clock..."

"Yeah, late enough you should be asleep," he said. "You got school tomorrow, don't you?"

I frowned and fought the urge to make it a pout. He _did_ sound like a parent right now, and it was annoying, but he'd punch me if I told him that. Still, it wasn't fair. He might skip school tomorrow for all I knew, but yet he was worried about me going...

"Fine," I said, spreading out on the bed.

He tossed the covers over me and flipped the light off, not saying a word. A simple goodnight would've been nice, but I guess he was in a shitty mood, and when I really thought about it, it was a miracle he hadn't yelled at me.

As I tried to sleep, I heard the front door open and heard Soda's voice. That was probably the reason he made me go to bed; he was having friends over, and I was too annoying to be around them or something like that. I strained to hear what they were saying, but it wasn't anything interesting. Just some friend of Evie's Soda thought was hot, and I didn't want to hear anything about my brother's dating life. I was curious about a lot of things he did, but that just grossed me out... I only liked to talk to Evie about girl things. I would _never _want to know about anything she did with my brother.

It took me a while to fall asleep. They grew louder and more irritating to listen to, but at least the annoyance kept me from thinking about Dad's mom and sister. All I could think about now was if I heard Soda laugh one more time, I'd go out there and wring both their necks. Maybe I should be glad though. Soda was only here a half hour, and Steve was already in a better mood.

xxxx

_Friday, November 11th, 1966 _

When I woke up, nobody else was home. I walked around the house a couple times to be sure, but Steve had left for sure.

I sighed and drug myself in front of the bathroom mirror. As I brushed my teeth slowly, I contemplated playing hooky. If Steve wasn't here, he wouldn't know about it anyway, and damn it, a day off would be nice. It didn't take me long to make my decision. I got dressed, and that was as far as I got. School wasn't happening today, and if Steve said anything about it later, I'd tell him I was sick. I did feel queasy, so it wouldn't even be a lie.

I spent most of the morning trying to style my hair into different styles and experimenting with the makeup Rosie's left in the bathroom. By lunchtime I'd gotten pretty good at it. I still hated how it felt on my face and washed it off quickly, but at least I knew how to put makeup on now. It didn't look as good as when Angela did it, but I didn't look like a walking embarrassment either. It was progress.

When it occurred to me somebody might catch me, I cleaned up the bathroom and put everything back the way it was. If Steve was skipping school, he'd probably skip the afternoon, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain I'd skipped school to practice my makeup skills. He'd either laugh or kill me, or laugh and then kill me.

Once it was completely picked up, I tried to eat lunch, but I couldn't even stomach a piece of toast. Maybe I really was sick, but I knew better. I was anxious about Dad and it was always hard for me to eat when I got anxious.

The longer I sat at the table staring at my picked at toast, the more I realized staying home was a stupid idea. Sure, I'd had a good morning, but now I was bored and had no idea what I'd do all afternoon. Maybe it'd have just been better to go to school... I'd never admit that to Steve if he caught me later, but it was true. Sometimes doing bad things only seemed like a good idea, and being Angela's best friend, I should know that better than anyone else.

xxxx

By the time school would've gotten out, I'd gotten so sick of the daytime TV, I vowed to never watch TV again. Only one channel came in today, so one there was no alternative, and I swore they made the shows boring to discourage kids from skipping school.

When the doorbell rang, I couldn't have been more excited to see Rachel.

"Why weren't you in school today?" she asked.

"Felt like skipping I guess..."

She gave me a funny look. "I thought you'd have been sick of something. I was gonna see if you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told her. "Only a little sick."

"Here's all your homework."

She handed me a stack of papers, and I took them reluctantly. "You didn't have to do this for me..."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't have if I knew you were doin' this on purpose."

Something about the way she'd said it, like she was so much better than me or something, made me snap. If she was gonna make comments like that, no wonder she and Angela fought all the time. "Well, at least I don't try to steal cigarettes."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I just got done being grounded..."

I raised an eyebrow at her. I'd snapped at her, and she wasn't gonna fight with me? Glory, she'd have been all over Angela for saying the same thing. "Yeah, I bet your mom was mad."

"Mad is an understatement," she corrected me. "If Angela ever tries to get me to do something like that again, I'll tell her she can stick it where the sun don't shine."

I smirked, wondering if she thought it was truly Angela's fault when she'd volunteered to do the stealing. She and Angela were alike that way. Nothing was ever their fault. If they got a bad grade, it was the "stupid teacher's" fault. If they got in trouble, it was their brother's fault. Somehow they always found a way to stretch the truth in their favor, and I envied that. I always blamed myself first, even if it wasn't my fault.

"So, Wendy wanted me to give you this." She pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to me.

It was an invitation to her birthday party.

"Between you and me, I overhead her tell Leslie she wasn't going to invite you, but he said she should," Rachel told me. "I think he likes you. Like … likes you likes you if you know what I mean."

I knew what she meant, and coming from her, I had to wonder if the first part was true or if she was just spreading more drama. Still, it stung, especially when I knew I'd hardly said a word to them the past couple weeks. If Wendy didn't want me at her party, I couldn't blame her.

"I didn't get one," Rachel informed me. "Not that I care. I think she's weird..."

She stared at her fingernails and heaved a small sigh, which told me deep down, she was jealous, but of course she wouldn't admit that and insulted Wendy instead. It irritated me. Wendy was a nice girl, even if she was a little different.

"So … are you doin' anything tonight?" I wasn't sure I wanted to do anything with her, but I needed to change the subject before she gossiped about every girl in the entire city of Tulsa.

"I was gonna go to Angela's around six," she said with a shrug. "I guess you can come too. She probably wouldn't mind."

Angela had invited her over? Something about that didn't sound right. Angela didn't like people coming over to her house, she usually came to mine when we hung out, but still, I couldn't pass up the offer. It was something to do, and if I said no, I had nothing to look forward to but more boredom.

"Okay, I'll see you at six," I said before I could change my mind.

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Thanks for reading and for reviewing especially. :) I'd love to hear your thoughts once again on this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Another Shepard centric chapter... Hopefully the beginning satisfies your need for Shepard interaction. It did satisfy my need to write it. :)

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I sat on the first step of the Shepard's front porch and waited for the right time to invite myself inside. About twenty minutes ago, I decided I was too bored to wait until six and booked it early only to discover Tim and Angela were in the middle of an intense battle of sorts when I arrived. You could hear Angela screeching from a block away. Glory, did she ever have a voice that could carry... I knew better than to try to get in the middle of it, so I planted myself here, and I'd stay right here until it was safe to venture inside.

The yelling kept pouring, mostly from Angela, but make no mistake Tim was definitely holding his own. He was probably winning. Angel never went down easy; if she was losing an argument, she just screamed louder as though that was supposed to give her some kind of advantage. It did with me. At that point I'd do anything to preserve my hearing, but Tim fought fire with fire.

"It's a little weird to just sit outside somebody's house, ain't it?"

I whipped my head around, shocked to see Curly. "Well, I was comin' to see Angela, but since she's busy fightin' with Tim, I thought I'd wait... Don't wanna get in the middle."

"No offense, kid, but I can't imagine you getting in the middle of anything."

He sat down a step above me and lit up a cigarette. He took a few drags and then held out his pack to me. "Want one?"

I knew I shouldn't, but I took it anyway. It couldn't hut me. Everyone I knew smoked well before they were twelve anyway. He lit it for me and I tried to inhale without coughing in between them. Guess I wasn't as good at smoking as I thought.

Curly looked damn amused by it. "Don't smoke much, do you?"

I shook my head, but wished I'd have smacked him for laughing at me or something instead. He was just as much of a jerk as he was when Angela and I were little. He was always teasing us. One time he put a worm in my hair, and I still held that against him. He was even worse than Steve about teasing.

I sighed. Angela and Tim were still fighting. "What're they on about?" I asked in hopes Curly could enlighten me.

"He heard she'd been kissing some guy in our gang. At Buck's no less."

I nodded, assuming it probably happened after I left that night and somehow word got out to them.

"You know her," he went on. "She's gonna deny it until she's blue in the face, but we both know she did it, 'cause he even admitted it when I kicked the shit out of him last night..."

"Was it Jake?" I asked, remembering I'd seen her flirt with him before.

He flicked his cigarette ash towards me and gave me a look. "How'd you know?"

"I'm her best friend, remember?"

"Well, if you see her hanging around that ass again, do me a favor and tell me."

I rolled my eyes. "And risk her wigging out on me? No thanks..."

"Hey, I won't tell her you said it."

"She'll know," I insisted. "Trust me, she'll know. She _always_ knows."

"Know what I think? I think you and every other girl in the seventh grade gives her way too much credit... She's full of bullshit, even more than I am."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not so sure that's possible."

"Believe me, she might talk a bunch of shit, but she'll be kissing up and trying to get back on his good side just as fast."

That much I could believe. She could say she hated Tim all she waited, but sometimes I think she was just upset he was upset with her. "I wish she'd give it up," I told him. "Sick of listening to this..."

"You think I'm not? If they don't shut up, I'll go in there and yell at 'em both in a few minutes."

"Won't Tim get mad?"

Curly started laughing again. "Tim ain't _that_ scary."

Well, for whatever it was worth, I thought he was pretty damn scary, scarier than my brother at least.

I assumed the argument would go on forever, but it didn't. If it started when I got here, it lasted a couple of minutes, and now their voices were muffled; they were just talking, but you could tell Tim had the clear edge. She was probably going to be moody as hell because of it tonight. He'd definitely won.

Curly got up, and I put out my barely smoked cigarette and followed him inside.

Angela was stunned to see me. Her eyes were angry, and I could tell it was out of embarrassment more than anything else. "Julia, what the hell're you doin' here?"

"Came here to see you," I said. "Rachel said she was comin' over at six, and I thought I'd come early."

She walked up to me, grabbed my cardigan sleeve and started dragging me upstairs towards her room with her, giving Tim one hell of a glare as she did.

He returned the glare and headed towards the front door with Curly. I guess they had plans. "Do me a favor and be a good little girl tonight, alright?" he called back to Angela.

I smirked. Something about the way he'd said it was funny, but she didn't think so. "Go to hell, Tim."

He took a few steps towards us. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, whatever, I will," she said, and through the bitterness, you could tell she actually meant it.

It was probably that look he gave her, and she didn't wanna get her ass kicked in front of me.

She tugged my sleeve harder and I followed her. Once we were in her room and the door was shut, she groaned loudly. "I_ hate_ him." She grabbed a pillow off the bed and whipped it across the room. "I fucking hate him."

"Tim?"

"No shit, Julia. Who else? The president?"

"I dunno, maybe Curly..."

"Him too, but Tim's a _bigger_ asshole."

"C'mon, Angela, you're just saying that 'cause you got in trouble."

She tossed another pillow at me and plopped down on the bed. I assumed that meant I was right. "I should be allowed to kiss Jake Willard if I want without either of them interfering..."

So it was Jake... I hated to agree with Tim, but I really did. That guy was around my brother's age, and it was scary to think she'd want to date him. "Well, you had to know Tim would be upset about it at least." I sat down next to her. "I mean he's Tim's friend and all and you're Tim's sister."

"So?"

"So that's already a reason for him to get pissed about it," I said. "I mean, shit, Steve would be pretty damn irritated if one of his friends kissed me..." Irritated was kind of an understatement when I really thought about it, so Steve was damn lucky the thought of kissing one of his friends would never cross my mind in the first place.

"Yeah, and if I remember right, your brother was the prick who told Tim about it a couple months ago."

I glared at her, wanting to slap her for calling my brother a prick, even if most of what she'd said was true. He was a jerk sometimes, but only I could call him that. "Yeah, and your brother punched him for it," I said. "Maybe Tim should've been grateful, especially since he was gonna chew you out now."

My voice was tense enough I thought I might've started an argument with her, but she just shook her head. "He chewed me out then too."

I sighed. "It just means he cares."

"Would you just shut up already?" she snapped. "God, you get pissed when Steve bitches you out, so give me a goddamned break. I'll bet anything Tim is worse than your brother anyway."

Tim did seem scary, but sometimes I wasn't so sure. I'd bet if I did half the things she did, he'd react even worse than Tim. If she was Steve's sister and not me, there was no doubt in my mind they'd kill each other.

"Sorry," she mumbled a second later. "I just … I just wish he wasn't such a jerk sometimes. I dunno."

"It's okay." I knew what she meant. It sucked to get yelled at by somebody you liked most of the time, especially when they weren't even your parent.

I guess that was one thing we had in common. Both of our brothers thought they knew everything about everything and weren't afraid to tell you so. Lucky for me, I only had one brother. She had two, and though Curly didn't seem near as intense as Tim, I'll bet he had his moments of being pretty damn scary when he wanted to be.

"So where were you today?" she asked. "I thought you were sick or something."

"I skipped..."

"_You_ skipped?"

"Why's that so hard to believe?"

She had an awful grin across her lips. I jabbed her arm. "It's not funny."

"No fair, Jule," she whined. "I have to beg you to skip with me, and you go and do it on your own now?"

She gave me a fake pout and I jabbed her again. "I just didn't feel like going..."

"Why?"

_Because my step mom is a bitch_, I thought, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to complain about that to her. Her stepdad was two billion times meaner than Rosie. Rosie was just … annoying.

"No, really. Why?" she pressed again.

"Didn't sleep well last night... Thought I could nap all day or something." It was only half a lie. To be honest, I didn't know why I'd skipped myself other than it seemed like the thing to do at the time, and then I realized she'd keep asking me until I told her something that made sense. "Rosie's driving me crazy," I added with a sigh.

"I never really liked her."

That shocked me. Angela'd hardly ever said a word about Rosie to me. "Why?"

"Don't think I ever told you, but I'm pretty sure she slept around with my step dad before she married your dad..."

I knew Earl cheated on their mother, but I'd never thought in a million years, Rosie would sleep with _him_. At least Dad was good looking enough. He could maybe pass for being in his late twenties, and all the hard labor at his job ensured he would never get fat. He was definitely younger than Earl too. "I had no idea...Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Seemed like you liked her so I didn't wanna ruin it for you."

I didn't know what to say to that. This was another one of those moments where I guess she was a good friend. Part of me wished she'd have been honest, but at the same time, it was nice to think she thought about my feelings in it all.

"Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore," I told her. "I hate her now, so say whatever the hell you want about her."

"Wow," was all she said.

"What do you mean wow?"

"Just never thought I'd hear you say you hated her. You used to go on and on about how cool she is..." She rolled her eyes. "It was annoying."

She'd been pretty nice to me, and still was sometimes, but it didn't change anything back to the way things were. It never would, and now I was damn curious about what else Angela might know about her. "What else do you know about her?"

"Not much... I overheard my mom call her a bitch once."

That was something. Their mother was oddly ladylike and went to church every Sunday, even if you wouldn't expect her to. Getting her family to go with her was a lost cause. Angela did sometimes. Sometimes I think she really did like her mother, despite the lady's tendency to scream herself hoarse. Angela had to get it from somebody...

"Curly said she was hot once, and Mom slapped him," she continued. "I don't think he knew she was listening..."

"Two-Bit Mathews says the same thing." She was pretty, but you could be pretty and batshit insane at the same time. She was certainly both.

"Speaking of him, I wish I wouldn't have invited his damn sister over." She shook her head. "She suggested it and I couldn't say no... It's like she worships the ground I walk on."

The thought of Angela not being able to say no amused me, but I guess flattery did go a long way with her. "She really does," I agreed.

"It's kinda cute though, don't you think?"

"I think it's annoying..."

"She ain't that bad," Angela said. "Just a little immature is all."

So Angela was _defending_ Rachel now? "You used to hate her," I reminded her.

"Nah, I only hate Candy Miller."

"'Cause of what she did to me?"

"That and at least fifty other things..."

I smiled. Just a couple months ago, I thought I'd lose my best friend to that bitch. I guess, I had nothing to worry about.

xxxx

Six o'clock came and went, and it would seem Rachel blew off hanging out with us. Angela didn't seem too irritated about it. I guess she'd rather just hang out with me anyway. We painted each other's nails, flipped through her magazines, and even attempted to make a gourmet meal out of what we could find in their pantry. It didn't taste very good, but we had fun trying.

Now we were watching the Friday night movie on CBS. It was some Western neither of us paid much attention to. Angela was hoping for a good looking actor, but it was just John Wayne, and he was kind of old looking.

We mostly chatted about different things until she heard the door slam. She jumped up. I guess she hadn't expected anybody to be home tonight. "You should probably go," she told me, but when I heard her step dad, I stayed put.

I didn't want to leave her here alone with him.

Earl walked in the living room and glared at us both. "You two make the mess in the kitchen?" he demanded.

I'd forgotten all about the mess we'd made and remembered we intended to clean it after the movie.

"Didn't think you'd be home until late," Angela spoke up. "We were gonna clean it up, honest."

She didn't even sound rude like I thought she might. She talked a lot of shit about him, but from what I could see, she walked on eggshells around him.

"I worked a long day, and this what I come home to?" He pointed towards the kitchen.

Angela's eyes darted away from him. "We'll clean it up." She pulled me up and ushered me towards the kitchen with her. "You should've left while you had the chance," she whispered forcefully, and he smacked her as we walked past him.

"Don't you whisper shit about me to your friend."

I gritted my teeth, waiting for her to scream at him, but she didn't.

I jogged the rest of the way and started picking up all the bowls we'd used. Angela wet a rag under the faucet and wiped crumbs off the counter.

Earl stood there with his arms crossed, and it became clear he was standing there to make sure we cleaned everything. His stares were uncomfortable and made it harder for me to focus.

I shook as I tried to clean, even dropping a bowl a minute later. I froze, petrified for sure he'd come after me. I wasn't his step daughter so I probably had nothing to worry about it, but I couldn't help it.

"Don't just stand there." He pointed to it. "You helped make the mess, you can damn well clean it up too!"

I leaned down to pick it up, but before I could, Angela's voice caught me offguard. "Don't you yell at her."

I gave her an anxious glance. She didn't have to do this. We could just pick everything up, and go on with our lives if she just cooperated, but something in her had snapped.

I picked up the bowl and set it in the sink. She didn't budge and glared at Earl.

He took a step towards her. "Clean it up."

I gave her another look, pleading with her to just listen, but she didn't move.

He clenched a fist. "I'll tan you right in front of your friend if you don't pick this shit up..."

"Angela," I begged her. I did not want to see that, but damn her for being stubborn.

In move one she tossed everything off the counter. The sound of it all falling on the floor jolted me, and I think it jolted her too. She made a move for the door, and I could see the fear in her eyes. She hadn't meant to snap.

I stepped in front of her. "Please," I said, but he just shoved me out of the way to get to her and started dragging her with him towards the living room.

She kicked and tried to get away, but it was too late.

I wasn't sure where the courage came from—maybe it was because she'd just stood up for me—but I took a few steps forward. "Please, Mr. Stark," I tried once more. "She didn't mean it."

"Shut up." The look in his eyes said he'd come after me next if I didn't listen, so I slunk away.

I started cleaning again as fast as I could. I should've ran, but I couldn't leave her here alone even if there was nothing I could do about it.

I tried not to listen to what was happening a room over as I washed the dishes, but even over the running water I could hear everything.

He called her an ungrateful brat and struck her several times. She took it mostly silently, save for a few small yelps she probably couldn't help, and I couldn't help but think this was a far cry from how she conducted herself with Tim earlier. I'd seen her afraid of her brother sometimes too, but nothing like this. If I weren't so terrified myself, I'd start bawling.

I had everything cleaned up and mostly put away when Earl approached me. "You stay until you get this done, and then you get the hell out of here, you hear me?"

I nodded and started working faster. When the last dish was put away, I took off. I wanted so badly to see Angela and ask her how she was, but Earl gave me one hell of a look and fear got the best of me.

I heard him say something to her as I left. I think he sent her to her room, but I couldn't hear him right over my head pounding. As soon as I was a block away, I broke down. I felt sick to my stomach. I'd seen things like this happen before over there, but every time, I couldn't stand it. My dad was an ass sometimes too, but he was never that mean. If I'd tossed everything off the counter like that, he might've hit me too, but not like that. Never like that, and I felt responsible since she stood up for me.

I walked in the direction of my house as fast as I could without running. I couldn't get there fast enough after that. Even if Steve yelled at me because I didn't tell him where I was going, nothing could be that awful, and I'd be sure to remember it.

A hand on my shoulder stopped me and jerked me back. I gasped until I saw it was Angela.

Before I said anything, I hugged her. "I'm sorry," I said, squeezing her tighter.

She hugged me back briefly and then shoved me off her. "I snuck out," she informed me. "C'mon, let's book it for your place before he realizes I'm gone." She tugged me forward and I followed her.

She didn't even have to ask if she could stay. If Steve said anything about it, I'd let him have it for sure.

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Poor Angela... I hope this chapter proves I don't intend to make her a bitch always!

Sorry I'm not up to my usual every other day updating. Things have been a little hectic for me lately, but I will try to get one more out this weekend! Hold me to it. Reviews would be fantastic motivators to speed me along... ;) Thanks everyone for the support thus far. I'm over the moon and back this almost has as many reviews as Landslide already! Emoticons seem inadequate to express my gratitude, but here's three anyway... :D:D:D


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Well, I should probably wait a while to post this one, but … it's short, and you'll all catch up eventually, right? ;)

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When we got to my house and I flipped on the lights, I could see the tears in Angela's eyes. Unsure what to say or do, I led her to the couch where we both sat down and she burst into full blown tears. She shielded her eyes with her hand out of embarrassment. I'd cried in front of her at least a hundred times, but it'd been a while since I'd seen her cry real tears. When we were little, sometimes she'd use them on purpose to get her way, but now it rare to see her cry. She just didn't. She was tough, and how could you not be living in her family?

I wrapped my arms around her. I'd stopped crying by now and told myself I wouldn't over and over again since she was now. I needed to be strong. She didn't need to see me lose it after that.

"Are we the only ones here?" she asked.

When I nodded, she looked relieved.

"You sure?" she asked again.

"Yeah, my dad went to see his mom, I dunno where the hell Rosie went... Steve'll be home later probably."

"Good." She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry you had to see that..."

"Don't apologize." I rubbed her back, trying as hard as I could to comfort her, but I wasn't sure I was doing a good enough job. "It ain't your fault, Angel."

"Well, no shit."

I sighed. At least she was starting to sound like herself.

"You still shouldn't have had to see it," she added.

I wished I hadn't either, and it only made me worried this kind of stuff happened to her even more than I thought it did. They were loud and dysfunctional. Anybody with two eyes could see that, but people could say that about my family too, and we weren't that bad. At least I hoped we weren't."

"I don't hate Tim. I know I said I did, but I don't." She shook her head at me. "I really, really don't."

Her voice was repetitive, like she needed to assure me that entire outburst about him had been bullshit, but I already knew that.

"I know you don't, Angel..." Hell, she probably wished Tim were here right now, and I wished he was for her. Curly was right when he said she'd be kissing up to him. She needed him way more than she'd ever let on.

"But I _do_ hate Earl. He could have a heart attack, and I'd fucking celebrate. That's how much I hate him. In fact, I hope he dies. I hope he just up and croaks." She grasped a fistful of her hair out of frustration. "Does it make me a terrible person to say that?"

I knew she didn't really wish death upon him—she was bitchy sometimes, _not_ a malicious person—but right now she deserved to say whatever the hell she wanted about Earl. "No, I don't blame you."

"He should've stayed out and got even more drunk." She was damn near shaking. "Drunk enough to be completely useless. Drunk enough to make Mom call an ambulance on him again..."

I nodded, knowing what she was getting at. There were two kinds of drunk: the kind where you got angry for no reason, and the other kind where you were completely useless. Unfortunately for her, Earl's angry drunk seemed worse than my dad's, but then again, I was lucky. I usually just shied away from Dad. It was Steve who faced the consequences if anybody. Still, I wanted to think my dad wasn't that bad even at his worst. I'd felt more scared at her house than I had in a long, long time.

The door opened. She jumped a bit, but I didn't because I knew it would only be Steve.

He saw us and immediately gave me a look.

"Don't even." I made sure my tone was extra sharp. He'd just have to put his dislike for Angela aside tonight and deal with this.

He clenched his teeth. "I didn't say nothin'."

"You were thinking it."

He took a few strides towards me. "When'd you become a mind reader?"

I glared at him in reply. He didn't need to do this, but of course, he did. He pointed to Angela and raised an eyebrow as if to demand what the hell she was doing here. Even if he didn't say it aloud, that was exactly what he would've said, and it pissed me off. Luckily Angela's head was down and she didn't see it, or I'd really lay into him.

"Glory, Steve, what's your problem?"

He didn't say anything, but he looked mighty pissed.

"What?" I asked him, and his face grew redder.

"I'd like to have a word with you..." He glanced at Angela for a brief second. "_Alone_."

I shook my head firmly.

"I'm not asking. Get up."

I shook my head again.

"_Now_," he said, and I figured I'd best just cooperate to avoid a huge blowup.

I got up and sighed. "Sorry," I mumbled to her and followed him to his room.

I walked in before him. He looks awfully pissed and slammed the door when he made it inside. "First of all, what the hell's with your attitude?

"This is not a good time to start shit with me, Steve!"

"Oh, yeah, and why's that? 'Cause right now it seems like _you_ think it's a beautiful time to start shit with _me_."

I hesitated, trying to think of how I was going to explain this to him in a way that wouldn't result in him insisting Angela leave.

"You can start by telling me why Angela's here." He folded his arms and gave me a look, as if he expected me to spill everything in one sentence.

I sighed. That was next to impossible.

"Julia," he snapped, and I could just punch him, I was so angry.

"'Cause," I said. "'Cause she needs a place to stay and you of all people should understand that, damn it."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Just … trust me, Steve, she_ does_."

"That ain't an explanation."

"Well, it's the best you're getting!"

He glared at me, and I gave in. "Fine. I was over there just to hang out, and shit, I dunno, Steve. Her stepdad came home … and it wasn't pretty, okay? So excuse me if I'm having a hard time explaining this."

He just stared at me. I couldn't even tell what he was thinking from the look on his face.

"She just needs to stay here like you do at the Curtis's sometimes, alright?" I added.

"I get it," he snapped. "You don't have to draw a goddamned picture for me. I get it."

"Well, it didn't seem like it a few seconds ago."

His face grew another shade of red, but I couldn't resist bringing it up. If he'd have just left it alone ten minutes ago, we wouldn't be having this argument.

He pinched his brow and looked towards the floor. "She can stay, alright?"

I smiled, content I'd won this argument so fast, but not even a second later, he pointed a finger at me, and I knew it wasn't over. "You can't talk to me like this though."

I rolled my eyes. "You were bein' an asshole..."

"Maybe that's 'cause you were giving me so much lip."

"Well, Jesus, you're not my dad..."

The look he gave me next should've shut me up. If I had any sense, I would've, but I kept going. "You're just my annoying brother. You think that demands some kind of fucking respect?"

I wished I could take back my words or even just the curse word. That couldn't have helped. The tension between us was unbearable and as irritated as I was, I didn't need to say that, but it was too late now.

He pointed to his bed. "Sit."

I gave him an uneasy glance, hoping it'd pass for an apology. It didn't.

"Sit down," he repeated. "I'm not done talking to you."

I listened and sighed.

He took a seat beside me. "Alright, kid, how 'bout I paint a little picture for you? Dad's gone. Rosie's gone. You're twelve, I'm seventeen. Who do you think that leaves in charge?"

I didn't like where this was going, but I knew better than to tell him otherwise. "You..."

"Alright, now let me ask you this, even when they're here, would you rather listen to me or Rosie?"

"That's an obvious question..."

"Just answer it then."

"You."

"Okay. Dad or me?"

I knew he was gonna ask that next, but it didn't make the question any less uncomfortable. "C'mon, this is stupid. You already know."

"Me again, huh?" he guessed.

I gave him a weak nod.

"Using your same words, wouldn't you say I deserve some kind of fucking respect then?"

Of course he had to throw the words back at me.

"Steve..."

"No, I ain't done," he continued. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but clearly you expect a few things from me, and I don't know the fuck I'm supposed to make that work without being a little bossy every now and then."

His idea of a little bossy was a lot bossy, but I didn't know how to say that without making him more upset, so I just nodded.

"You can't have the best of both worlds, kid, and if you're gonna act like this, well, maybe I should just leave. Don't seem like you appreciate it much, so why should I care? I could probably emancipate myself if I wanted, you know."

"No..."

"Well, if it really bothers you that much, why am I even bothering?"

"_No_, I didn't mean it."

"Kind of sounded like you did."

I wiped at my eyes, trying not to tear up, but I was frustrated. "Don't leave," I told him. "I didn't mean it like that... I … I'm sorry." I really didn't want it to escalate this far. I just wanted him to lay off about Angela. That was all.

"Well, you best remember it then."

I covered my eyes with my hands, the tears falling now. He sat there and said nothing for what felt like an eternity, and it stung to think he was just gonna let me cry like this. Maybe he really meant everything he said.

I felt his hand on my shoulder and looked up at him.

"Hey, I won't leave..." He didn't sound or look as angry, but I still wondered if he was being completely serious or not.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I hadn't been expecting that, but it was nice. "I was just tryin' to make a point," he added and held me until I stopped crying.

I guess he'd lost patience with being kind after that because he shoved me up to my feet.

"I should probably go check on Angela..." I told him, inching near the door.

"Yeah, what kind of a friend are you?" he teased.

"Well, you were the one who made me come talk to you..."

"Yeah, yeah, but you were the one who made the conversation last so long."

"You provoked me." I stuck my tongue out at him, and he smirked, so I knew he knew I was only teasing him. Thank God because the thought of him leaving really did frighten me, and I'd do my best to try to forget he said that.

I almost left, but I couldn't yet. I stepped forward and hugged him. "I love you, Steve."

"Yeah, and I tolerate you." He hugged me back quick and shooed me towards the door. "Go on..."

His expression told me he was less annoyed than he wanted to be, and I took that to mean he'd meant to say he loved me too.

When I got back to the living room, Angela was laying on the couch. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't think that'd last so long..."

She sat up. "It's alright. He didn't yell at you too bad, did he?"

My face flushed, hoping she hadn't noticed I'd been crying. "Nah, you'd have heard it... C'mon, let's go to my room."

We settled on my bed. Neither of us had much to say to each other, so we didn't. We just lay there.

I focused on her, still trying to comfort her by rubbing her back to avoid thinking about what Steve told me. I'd feel selfish thinking about myself anyway. She didn't stop me either, and that told me just how upset she really was. She wasn't crying anymore though, and she probably wouldn't cry again for a very long time.

She fell asleep and almost had when Steve knocked on my door a half an half or so later. "Jule, can I talk to you for a second?"

I nodded and roll off the bed.

He hooked an arm around my shoulder and led me out to the living room. "Dad called," he said. "His mom passed."

Steve didn't look that sad, but he was still sullen and serious. I didn't know how to feel about it. I didn't know her, and my chances of ever knowing her were completely spent now. Should I mourn that or just trust what Steve had said?

"Is he okay?"

"Don't know. He didn't say much. Didn't even ask if Rosie was here."

That didn't sound good. I stared at my feet for a while, hoping this wouldn't put him in a terrible mood. When he came home and found out Rosie'd left on account of me and Steve, he'd be pissed, but I tried not to think about that and hugged Steve.

He hugged me back. "Trust me, you didn't wanna meet her..." he repeated himself, as though he could read my mind. "Don't get upset about that, okay? It ain't worth it..."

I nodded, but I still wondered.

* * *

Thanks for reading. :) Please review again! It just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Saturday, November 12th, 1966_

I didn't sleep much that night. I dwelled on the same dumb question I'd dwell on for weeks; how do you mourn somebody you never knew, somebody you were supposed to hate even? And the worst part was I was angry, damn angry. Maybe Dad wanted to protect me by never letting me meet his mother or lying to me about his sister, but no matter what excuse he gave me, it'd still be wrong. I wasn't a stupid little kid anymore. He could tell me the truth, no matter how awful it was. Didn't he realize it'd be worse not to tell me? I worried about the hundred things he'd never told me, and I worried that everything he _had _told me was a lie.

And then Angela... She'd done the exact same thing. She'd kept everything she knew about Rosie a secret for the same reason; at one point in my life, not long ago, I was dense enough to like Rosie, love her even, and Angela probably thought I was mighty stupid and naive. You could call Angela a lot of things, but naive wouldn't be one of them. She'd seen more than me, but I didn't know what was worse—to be lied to and find out later all the good memories were false or to never have good memories at all.

I rolled over and noticed Angela was awake too. It was morning now, and judging from the deep circles under her eyes, she hadn't slept much either. She stared at my ceiling, hugging one of my pillows across her chest. I watched that pillow rise and fall at a steady rate. That told me she was calm at least, but she still looked awful.

Her hair was a mess, her day old makeup was smeared, and there was a small burn the size of a cigarette tip on her arm, but worst of all, she hardly moved or acknowledged I was looking at her. It scared me. She was supposed to be the tough one who teased me for being a baby, not the other way around. Even though I'd never call her a baby, seeing her like this hurt, and right now, I wished she'd say something bitchy, or even slap me, just to prove she was still herself.

The moment finally came a few minutes later, and it couldn't have come sooner. "The hell is your problem?" she asked, jerking her head towards me.

When I didn't reply, she tossed my pillow on the floor and sat up. "You gonna stare at me all day?" She peered down at me with a disgusted look on her face.

Angela was back alright. I pulled myself up and hugged her as tight as I could.

"God, you're weird," she said, but she had no idea how much she scared me by not being scary. As much as I hated her bitchy, I needed her to be herself too.

I let go of her. That was awkward and unplanned, and I'd probably never do it again.

"You got any plans for the day, weirdo?"

I sighed and thought about my grandma. She didn't know. She'd been asleep by that point. "My grandma died," I told her. "I guess I gotta go to her funeral..."

Her annoyed expression grew concerned. "What the … when the hell did this happen?"

I shrugged. "Last night. Don't feel bad for me though. I never even met her, but Steve said Dad wants us to get to Kansas by tomorrow..."

"Jeez," she cursed under her breath.

"Like I said, I didn't know her," I repeated, even though I knew I was saying this bullshit to convince myself as much as her. I couldn't tell if she saw through it or not, but her slump and sullen demeanor told me she was thinking about it, probably thinking of her own grandma.

Angela really liked her grandma. She was the only relative I could think of I hadn't heard in conjunction to a swear word, so I assumed that meant she was more than just a decent person in Angela's eyes.

"I should probably go then, considering..." Angela got off the bed and gathered up the few things she'd brought here in her purse.

"Angela, wait." I got up after her. "You don't have to go yet. I don't even know when we're leavin'."

She propped a hand on her hip and sighed. "Yeah, well, your brother hates me. He'll probably be damn happy to see me gone, and no offense, 'cause I know you like him and all, but—"

"Angela, don't be stupid," I broke in. "Steve's an ass, but he can deal with it."

"I heard you guys talkin' last night," she said.

I swallowed. I guess that meant she'd heard Steve bawl me out too.

"Thanks for sticking up for me by the way," she went on. "But I really don't wanna deal with his bullshit today."

Neither did I, today or any day, but he wasn't_ that _bad. "Angela..."

"Look, I get it..." She crossed her arms impatiently. "You're worried about me, but Earl's always like that, and I'm used to it. Honest, I _am_."

I shook my head. This was bullshit. She wouldn't cry like that and run to my house if she weren't upset. She may be used to it, but that only made it more worrisome.

"My mom'll be home," she persisted. "He ain't as big of an ass to me in front of her."

"Angel..." I wasn't sure I believed that either. Angela's mom would never say Earl hit her, but I'd seen the marks when I'd been over there. I wasn't dumb. Her children weren't hitting her. I could put two and two together...

Angela grasped my shoulders, her fingernails digging into me. We were nearly the same height now, but she could still intimidate the hell out of me. "For the love of Christ, I'm _fine_," she said, eyes blaring into mine. "I'm always fine. So what he hit me. Your dad's hit you too. Get over it."

It wasn't the same though. He wouldn't wail on me in front of my friends. I couldn't say for sure—I'd never given him a reason to—but I was damn sure he wouldn't. At least I hoped not.

She released me, picked her purse off the floor, and slung it across her shoulder. "You know, it's Saturday morning anyway..." She fiddled with the purse strap and hardly looked at me as she said it. "Curly's probably nursing a hangover in our bathroom, and damn it if that dumbass doesn't always pick a fight with with him when he's in a pissy mood. Trust me, Earl won't even know I exist."

Her voice broke near the end, and if I didn't know before, I knew now the angry outburst was all an act. She could give me excuse after excuse, but it wouldn't change a thing. I knew she was lying. She knew I knew she was lying, but she wasn't gonna give up. If she wanted to pretend she was all tough about it, well, then I suppose I had to let her pretend.

She shifted towards the door and stopped, lingering behind for a second. "Thanks." All the anger in her was completely gone now. She really meant it. "See ya when you get back from Kansas."

"See ya," I called after her, but she walked up to me and hugged me not even a second later.

This time I was the one who didn't expect it. I squeezed her back, relieved she wouldn't leave pissed at me. As great as it was to see her back to herself, I didn't want that either... "Sorry about your grandma."

"It's okay."

She pulled away but held onto my arms. "You're an awful liar."

"Well, you're even worse." As if the conversation we'd have ten seconds ago didn't stand alone as evidence. "Stay out of trouble. Please." It wasn't just a request; it was a plea to do whatever she had to do to stay out of her usual bullshit and maybe even listen to Tim for a change.

She rolled her eyes.

"I mean it, Angel. I'll … I'll kick your ass if you don't."

She laughed, and not just a little laugh, one of those laughs that made you feel embarrassed even if you hadn't said anything stupid.

"Oh, Jule, you're cute," she said and started walking away for real this time.

I followed her up to our front door and waved goodbye. She flipped around and waved back briefly, but I guess she wasn't interested in a prolonged goodbye.

I took a deep breath and told myself she'd be fine. What I'd seen was only a small snippet of what she'd been through. She'd survived worse, she _will _survive worse, and the saddest thing was I won't ever be able to do a damn thing about it. When I thought about this, I almost threw up.

I remembered last night. The sounds, the way she tried to stay quiet, but couldn't... It wasn't me, it hadn't happened to me, but having to listen to it, it almost felt as if it had. All I had to do was recall the worst punishment Dad had ever given me, multiply the pain, and imagine her not even fifteen feet away, observing the whole thing. It was awful, and that was just my imagination.

No wonder she broke down, but all in all, she was still a hundred times tougher than me.

xxxx

"Steve, are we ever gonna leave today?" I beat my fist against his door. I wasn't sure why I was so anxious to leave, but I was, and he'd been sleeping like a log all day. It was damn near two o'clock.

Dad would be pissed if we blew off coming. He called after Angela left insisting we leave soon. Apparently he hadn't expected her to die and even apologized for not taking me in the first place. I hadn't expected that, but it was nice. At least he could admit when he messed up, unlike Rosie who'd insisted her cowardly actions were discipline one week after her half-assed apology. What sense did that make? If you retracted an apology a week later, you clearly didn't mean it at the time it was said...

"Steve, Dad said we wants us to get there tonight..."

He groaned something I couldn't make out. My name plus a cuss word maybe? I knocked again, this time louder, knowing full and well it'd annoy him. "It's past noon."

No reply.

"You said it yourself I could wake you up as long as it's after noon. Remember?"

I heard loud footsteps and the door swung upon to reveal him in nothing but his underwear. His hair was a mess, and he reeked like he needed a shower—_bad_. "I don't recollect that, no."

I covered my nose and grimaced at him. "Well, you did. More than once actually, and it's one forty-five."

"Is it now?"

"Yup."

"Fantastic. Just let me put a shirt on and we'll leave right now."

"Really?"

"No." He shoved me out of the doorway and slammed the door.

I rapped my knuckles against the door and attempted to open it, but he'd either locked it or was holding it shut. "Steve, you asshole. Dad's orders, not mine!"

I should've known he wouldn't give a shit about that, but damn it, we really did have to leave soon.

"I know you can't see me right now," he said. "But just so you know, my fist is towards you and my middle finger is raised..."

He was impossible. I kicked the door and stormed away. If Dad got pissed, I'd tell him exactly who's fault it was.

xxxx

You could hear Steve snore from his room, and that was how I knew he'd fallen back asleep. I got fully dressed for the day and packed everything I'd need for the journey up to Kansas. We'd probably have to stay at my cranky great aunt's house in Garden City. I liked my Wichita relatives a lot better. Things actually weren't too bad there. Our mom's brother was good to us, even if his wife was kinda strange; she wasn't mean, but she treated her own kid's a lot better. Uncle Ben liked me and Steve though. Too bad he was never home and had to work a lot, and too bad he was on my mom's side, which meant for sure we wouldn't see him on this trip. Even if it wouldn't be awkward for him to attend the funeral, Wichita was on the other side of the state.

Dad grew up in a small town called Holcomb, and it'd take us a decade to get there. I knocked on Steve's door once more and gave up, opting to get a nap myself on the couch. I curled up in a ball, using the ledge as a pillow, and wondered how long Steve could possibly sleep.

I knew he'd been up at least as late as me. We watched TV until it went to static, and then we just sat there, saying little if anything to each other. He didn't seem sad in the slightest, and any time he tried to tell me I shouldn't be either, he got himself more and more hacked.

Eventually I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up to Steve shaking me, it looked like the sun was going down. "Let's go," he said.

Now he wanted to leave? When it was clearly past supper? I hadn't even eaten lunch, but then again, I wasn't hungry.

"We're already behind schedule." He pulled on my arm. "Get up."

"Well, somebody didn't want to move earlier, and that somebody wasn't me..."

"Just pack the shit you want, alright?" he said. "I wanna leave in a half hour."

I quit resisting his pull and stood up. "Fine," I grumbled and headed to my room to grab my suitcase.

I emerged just as fast and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I'm ready. What about you?"

"Yeah, just gimme a minute..."

I rolled my eyes, hoping a minute wouldn't turn into a couple hours again.

Much to my surprise, he was ready and shooed me out the door.

xxxx

We drove an hour, and I started to feel sick. It wasn't unusual for me to get car sick. When I was little, it happened all the time, and I thought I'd outgrown it by now but apparently not.

"I swear on all that's holy and sacred, I will kill you if you puke in my car." Steve gave me an uneasy glance. "I will skin you and make a leather seat cover out of what's left of you."

Jesus, I didn't feel sick enough to puke, just enough to make the long trip uncomfortable, but of course it was him and his precious car. His car wasn't even that special. Just something he managed to fix up so he didn't have to rely on others for transportation. I didn't know the make or model, but he could tell you everything about it. Evie liked to joke she was afraid he might be having an affair with it.

"For the last time, I'm not going to puke," I hissed back, but he didn't believe me.

"You look mighty pale," he insisted. "You tell me if you have to, and I'll pull over... I ain't kiddin'..."

"How can you even tell? It's dark."

"I just can... It ain't that late yet."

I glared at him. "I won't, but oh shit." I gave him my best false shocked impression, pulling my hands to my face and staring at him in horror. "I think I just got my period, and now I'm gonna bleed all over the car!"

The look on his face killed me. I laughed so hard I thought I really might puke, but somehow I managed to pull myself together.

He didn't. He was mighty pissed and it took him a good minute to think of anything to say. "That ain't funny, you little shit." He slapped my arm. "You're not even old enough for that yet, are you?"

He looked at me, an honest confused look on this face, and I realized anything I said at this point would freak him out, so I just dodged the question entirely. "I dunno.."

I hadn't gotten mine yet, if that's what he was asking, and I probably wouldn't for quite some time. I didn't have hips or boobs yet, and Angela said you had to have both. She was the only person who'd ever really told me about that special time of the month, so she was the only source I had to go off of. Rosie only mentioned being on the rag and it making her cranky. She never told me anything else. Angela was the one who told me all the awful, gross details... I was glad it hadn't come yet. It sounded like pure hell.

"You … haven't … uh … I mean … " He shook his head. "Forget it."

Steve sounded like he didn't know how to speak English. "What?"

Glory, his face was growing redder by the minute. "Are you trying to ask me if I got my period yet?"

He took one hand off the steering wheel and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah..."

I sighed. I should've never made that joke. This was the most awkward conversation I'd ever had in my entire life. "No."

Relief flooded his face. "Good." He turned up the radio louder, so we wouldn't have to talk about it any longer, and I was just as relieved for the sounds of Mick Jagger's vocal chords as he was.

In one distasteful joke, I'd rendered him next to speechless. I wasn't sure if I should be proud of that or feel bad. Either way, I learned something valuable: talking about it was a surefire way to shut him up because he didn't say a word to me. Not for at least another fifty miles.

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Here we are at chapter fifteen! And we've almost topped Landslide's word count. :)

Thank you ALL so much for the reviews. Sorry I haven't been replying! I intend to, but I've been operating mostly mobile lately, and my phone dislikes linking me to replies from my email for some stupid reason, and the mobile site does not have that fancy little bubble on the review page like the regular site does... Grr, Anyway, know that I ADORE your feedback and thrive on it. It keeps me updating when I might otherwise be a slacker, so never ever never underestimate the power of review. Feed me and I shall deliver... :)


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I spent the next hour or two resting against the car door. We definitely weren't getting to Kansas until after midnight, and I hoped Steve planned to anger Dad as much as possible because that was exactly what was gonna happen.

"You hungry?"

I turned, Steve's voice catching me by surprise; it was the first thing he'd said to me since our awkward conversation. "Lemme get something straight... You were on about me about puking in your car, and now you _want _me to eat something?"

"Shut up, or I'll let you starve."

I did shut up, but at the moment I wasn't particularly hungry, so it didn't matter. I just had nothing to say to him. There was too much tension in the air, and I vowed that once I got my period, he'd never know. He could guess until the end of eternity if it happened or not. Maybe I was being over-dramatic about it, but I'd had a whole two hours to dwell on just how awkward our conversation had been. I wondered if he dwelled on the same thing. You could tell very little from the look on his face except that he was tired and annoyed, and I couldn't say I blamed him.

I was gonna kill him before the end of this trip. Maybe even in the next ten miles... Any time anything good came on the radio, like a Beatles song or anything other than Elvis or The Rolling Stones, he had to change it. It was like he could see the glimmer of excitement in my eyes when I heard a song I liked and couldn't allow me that small satisfaction. But the absolute _worst_ thing about riding in a car with Steve was he could never leave it on one song—no, we'd listen to about thirty seconds of the song, and then he'd turn the dial and mumble some cuss words about how all the music was terrible. There was just no pleasing him ever; in any aspect of life. He had to be the most negative person I knew except for maybe Angela on her worst days. Angela could be one heck of a downer, and just like Steve she'd never admit it. It was everybody in the universe's fault why they were upset except their own, and I could just wring their necks for it.

There was no use being that difficult. It only made everyone around you hate you, but sometimes I think they liked that. Steve especially. I knew for a fact he picked fights with Dad just for the hell of it.

About a half hour since he'd asked, we stopped at a burger place in some town. I hadn't paid much attention to signs, so I didn't know where, but Steve said at least another four hours. It'd probably take the average person longer, but I knew for a fact he was speeding. For somebody who knew a lot about cars, he had to know that was bad for the engine, right? I could only assume he was cocky enough to think he fix any problem the car had, his fault or not. Either that or he was just damn impatient. After all, that was always a possibility with him for anything.

He ordered a giant burger, and I picked at a side of fries. It was all I could stomach.

"You know any of Dad's relatives?" I asked him.

I couldn't stand the silence any longer. As annoyed as I was, he was the only person to talk to.

"Not really, no."

He took a giant bite of the burger, and I could practically hear the food sloshing around in his mouth. He wasn't chewing with his mouth open necessarily, but it still sounded disgusting.

"You should probably call Dad at a payphone or something."

It was nine o'clock, and Dad was gonna be irate as hell when we got there past midnight. Warning him might help.

"He never gave me a phone number," Steve said. "Just the address."

"Dad's gonna kill you."

"What's new?" he asked, completely unfazed by my comment.

"His mom just died for one."

"If you're worried about getting in trouble, I'll take the full blame." Steve sighed and set his food down for a second. "Jesus, what the hell's he gonna do anyway? He can't kick me out when it ain't his own home..."

I shook head at how awful that sounded. "His _mom_ just died. Don't you think that's gonna put him in an even worse mood?"

"Our mom's dead too," he said, and if we weren't in public I'd have slapped him for how insensitive he sounded. That happened years ago. This happened yesterday.

"His mom ain't worth missing," he added. "Ours was."

"You can't make generalizations like that, Steve," I barked at him. "That's just wrong."

"Let me ask you this then... you know either of them?"

I shifted my gaze to my half eaten plate of french fries and planted my forehead in my hands. I didn't know if he meant for that to sting or not, but it did. Damn it, it did. I pushed the plate in front of me and sipped what was left of my coke, avoiding all eye contact with my brother.

"I don't mean to sound like an asshole," Steve started up again. "But shit... He ain't gone to see her in years. Last time was when he took me if that tells you anything. Save an annual phone call, he didn't even talk to her..."

That was all true, and I did always wonder why'd he'd selected damn near every other relative under the sun to raise us before her Only one of them was on his side, our aunt Rita, the same lady we'd be staying with tonight and the next couple days. I remembered her well because we lived with her at least two years. She was cranky and crabby all the time, but apparently she was his favorite aunt, and sometimes she wasn't horrible. She meant well at least. I guess she and my dad were alike that way; irritating people to be around, but good deep down.

"You're awful quiet."

I looked up, hardly shocked to find Steve eating the rest of my fries. He gave me a look as though he expected me to say something, and I turned away again, but a moment later, I couldn't stand to be passive aggressive anymore. "You've said a lot of stupid shit, you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," I spat. "What kind of conversation are we supposed to have when you're so goddamned pessimistic about everything?"

"I guess the truth is just too much of your feeble mind then, huh?"

I picked at the skin on my hands, trying to think of a good comeback. I'd just engaged him in his best game, but damn it, he wouldn't get to win this time. "You know," I hissed when I'd finally thought of something. "Maybe you could just admit you're wrong instead of put everybody down all the time. Just a thought."

His nostrils flared, and he glared at me like he might kill me. Good thing we were in public, or he probably would've.

He didn't say anything though. I'd just called him out of his number one defense mechanism, and the silence proved I was 100% right. In fact, he didn't say anything to me for the rest of our late dinner. When it came time to pay, he slapped money down on the table, and got up. He didn't even tell me he was leaving. I followed him out in a panic, wondering for a second if he was actually going to leave me here, but he opened the car door for me and snapped at me to get in.

He slammed the door on me hard enough I could feel the car shake. He really didn't like to be called out on his bullshit, did he? And that was victory two for me tonight... First, I'd silenced him with talk of periods, and now I'd silenced him with logic. Oh, the absolute worst thing you could ever do to him was beat him at his own game, and just to push him even further, I fussed with the radio this time. If he dared turn it, I'd turn it back, even if he slapped my hand away. He slapped hard too, hard enough to make me wince. That was one of his stupid car rules; nobody got to touch anything in his car accept him.

If you dared put your feet on the dashboard, that'd be the death of you, so of course that was my next move to annoy the crap out of him.

"Put your feet down," he growled.

"Why?"

"Three reasons. 'Cause I told you to, you'll get dirt everywhere, and it ain't ladylike."

"How's it not ladylike?"

"People could see up your skirt at the angle you're bending your legs..."

That sounded like a bunch of bullshit. "You're obviously looking too close then," I hissed, and shoved my feet down, the car swerving slightly as he did.

"Jesus, Steve, keep your hands on the wheel..."

"I'm driving just fine."

Just fine my ass. We could've died in that split second for all we knew... "You could've hit somebody in the other lane!"

"Would've been your fault," he insisted, and it didn't lower my heart rate one bit.

"I ain't the one driving."

The look he gave me shut me up. It wasn't just a usual glare. I'd pushed too far this time, and I'd be lucky if he didn't kill me before we got there. Whether because he strangled me or because I'd annoyed him enough to make him a terrible driver, I didn't know.

All I knew was it took every ounce of inner strength to keep my trap shut, but somehow I did and managed to fall asleep.

xxxx

When I woke up, Steve informed me we were an hour away, and I couldn't be happier. It was twelve-thirty now, and by some miracle, Steve and I were getting along.

"I hope Dad realizes how goddamned expensive this is," he grumbled. "I'm gonna have to stop for gas again..."

"Maybe he'll pay you back?"

He laughed. "The hell do you think?"

"Yeah, you're right."

"Thank you," he said. "I'm right about a lot of things."

I rolled my eyes. He was only saying that because I'd made that jab earlier, but for the sake of a peaceful final lag of the trip, I agreed with him. Being right really was that important to him, and I didn't get it.

"Hey, sorry about what I said earlier... about Mom..."

_Sorry? _I did a double take. It wasn't often you heard an apology from Steve. About anything, let alone this.

"The hell you lookin' at me like that for?"

I kept staring at him, completely bewildered. "You _never _apologize to me. For anything."

"Yeah, well, I probably shouldn't say shit like that to you..." He stumbled over his words, like he was as surprised he was apologizing himself as I was to hear it. "You never got to meet her, and well, that's kind of lousy..."

I shrugged, even if I agreed in full. Lousy didn't even begin to describe it. "I didn't get to meet my grandma either... I guess I'm used to it."

"Don't you _dare_ compare this to that." His voice made me jump. It wasn't quite a yell, but the amount of rage behind it, that was scary.

I could burst into tears this second.

I looked away and bit down on my lip so I wouldn't.

"We had a good mom, Julia," he said a moment later much calmer, and it shocked me as much as his almost yell. "We really did."

That was it for me. The tears could explode right now, only they didn't.

All I felt was numb. There was so much emotion in his voice, and I had no memories to compare it to. I could only feel bad for him because he did remember, and maybe in this case, it was a blessing I didn't.

That was a lie, but the last thing I wanted to dwell on was being mom-less.

Not right now. I could feel sorry for myself later, but right now it seemed like the last thing I needed.

xxxx

When we finally got there, Dad looked every bit as cross as I'd imagined, but he didn't yell. I guess everyone was asleep, and he didn't want to make a scene. He just handed us some pillows and blankets and told us we'd been given the attic as our sleeping spot.

When we made it up the small stair case, we noticed a few things. One, there was no bed. Just a couple random chairs and a rug. I guess the rug would be the bed.

Two, and most importantly, there was another boy who looked a little older than me. I thought he might be my cousin. He roused when we set our luggage down. "Who're you?" he asked, sitting up to get a better look at us.

I glanced at Steve, and he shrugged. "Uh … Charlie's kids," I said, hoping he'd at least recognize us by my dad's name.

"Oh, well, I'm your uncle, I guess."

Uncle? Was this some kind of a joke? Did he mean to say cousin?

"Excuse me... uncle?" Steve asked. "I wasn't aware we had an uncle." He took the words right out of my mouth.

"Yeah, I'm his little brother," the boy said with a sigh.

Steve and I exchanged looks. Neither of us had a clue what the hell he was talking about, but something told me he was right, and we'd both been lied to. At least I could say, it wasn't just me this time; it was Steve too, but the shock didn't make a bit of difference.

If we had an uncle who was younger than Steve, there was no telling what the rest of these people might be like.

* * *

AN: I hope this chapter was satisfactory. A bit shorter, but more intrigue about Charlie, I hope? More drama to follow this one, I promise... ;)

Thank you, thank you, thank you for reviews! I've been so busy, once again I haven't found the time to reply to you all... It was awesome to read them once again though, and I really hope you all leave one again! :D I'm a little anxious you'll think it's boring, so please don't forget!


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Happy belated b-day to Ponyboy and S.E. Hinton yesterday!

* * *

_Sunday, November 13th, 1966_

The air was icy. For only being one state up, Kansas felt twenty times colder than Oklahoma. Maybe it was just the day and approaching winter, but my teeth chattered and my whole body shook on Aunt Rita's rickety porch, and I thought I might freeze to death if I stayed outside much longer.

I had a coat, but it wasn't thick enough to combat the wind, so I hugged my arms across myself and clamped my teeth down in an effort to bear it. I'd rather sit out here with my brother than go inside anyway. Today was one of those rare days he didn't mind me following him everywhere; back in Tulsa, he'd read me the riot act, but I guess when we were with Dad's crazy relatives, my company was tolerated, appreciated even.

We'd had a long day so far, and it was only one in the afternoon. Neither of us slept well. It was cold up in that attic, for one, and when I saw a cobweb, everything went downhill. I had visions of spiders crawling on me all night and didn't sleep until Steve got sick of listening to me squeal and moved his his blankets next to me, claiming he had exceptional spider killing reflexes. When he saw one, he squished it between his fingers without a Kleenex or anything just to prove how tough he was. I cringed, I did manage to fall asleep not long after.

When we woke up some five hours later, Aunt Rita made us half burnt toast and eggs for a late breakfast or early lunch, and then Dad introduced us to everyone we didn't know, including his thirteen year old brother Leroy, the uncle we'd met last night. A few of them seemed friendly and said hi, but Steve and I were mostly ignored. They went right back to arguing over funeral arrangements, who got what of her belongings, and who would take in Leroy. Dad volunteered, and though Steve and I hadn't said a word about it to each other yet, I knew we were both opposed to it by the looks we exchanged. I mean, it was nice of Dad to consider, but didn't he have enough trouble taking care of his own kids? He wasn't an awful father, but he wasn't exactly Dad of the Year either.

Adding one more to the mix would be a nightmare. Rosie'd already caused enough troubles moving herself back in, and there was no way in hell Steve would share his room. I'd probably have to share mine since Steve would pitch a giant fit about it, and maybe I was selfish, but I couldn't imagine sharing my room. I needed that space to myself—_bad_. Without it, I'd go insane, so I crossed my fingers one of his other relatives won the argument. Dad hardly knew his brother anyway; before this week, he didn't know Leroy existed. Apparently his mother failed to mention it when she called him. If that wasn't screwed up, I didn't know what was...

I glanced at Steve. He must've been on cigarette number four by now; he just kept popping them between his lips and smoking them frantically. Steve could be a professional smoker. He got through a stick faster than anybody I knew, never ever got sick no matter how much he smoked, and he always made damn sure there was nothing left in that stick before he threw it. He complained a lot that Soda never finished a cigarette and claimed he could roll himself a whole new pack out of butts Soda's tossed away in his life.

"Here." Steve held a cigarette out for me.

I stared at his outstretched hand, wondering if he was serious.

"Take it," he insisted.

I sighed and did, letting him light it for me.

He nudged my shoulder after I took my first puff. "Hey, don't go thinking I'll let you smoke back at home. This is a one time deal, okay?"

I rolled my eyes. If he thought I'd never smoked before, he had no idea what he was talking about. "Why?"

"'Cause we're related to idiots, and you're gonna need all the cancer sticks you can get to stay sane." He lit cigarette number five as he spoke. "Shit, if I had a bottle of somethin', I might even let you take a shot or two."

"Really?" I was pretty sure drinking was one thing he'd never let me do in front of him, not even when it was legal for me to do so.

"Nah, probably not, but take the offer for what it's worth."

I stared at the cigarette between my fingers and put it to my lips once more, determined not to make an ass out of myself like I had in front of Curly. I thought I knew how to smoke, but I guess they smoked stronger brands than the light stuff Angela taught me on. On my second drag, I coughed on the exhale, and Steve tapped my arm. "No, you're doing it wrong... You can't just suck that much in like you're drinking something out of a straw. Not when you ain't smoked a cigarette in your whole life.

"Why not … ? That's kinda what it looks like ..." I could hardly speak between coughs. "... when you do it ... And I have … too smoked. I—"

He grabbed my hand and held it out in front of me so I couldn't put the tip to my lips again. "Take a couple breaths, kid. You'll make yourself sick."

I jerked my hand out of his and ignored his warning. Careful to take in less, I did better this time. I still coughed some, but it wasn't as embarrassing, and I maybe looked like I knew what I was doing. He shook his head at me. Apparently he didn't think so, but I didn't care if he knew I wasn't very good at smoking. Angela or her brother would laugh at me, but it probably relieved Steve to know.

After two more drags, I couldn't take anymore. The combination of the cold air and warm smoke was lethal to my lungs, so I simply held it between my fingers and watched the paper burn.

Steve grew increasingly annoyed and glared at me like I should smoke it. I thought about giving it a try a couple times, but watching him squirm was too entertaining. Eventually pried it from my hands and stuck it between his own lips.

"My mouth was on it." I batted my fist at him in an attempt to get it back. "Don't be a jerk, Steve!"

He flicked the ashes at me and smirked. "You were lettin' a perfectly good smoke go to waste. I ain't about to stand for that."

I gave up and hugged my arms over myself again to keep warm.

"You should gain some weight," Steve told me, grabbing my upper arm. "I can almost wrap my hand around your arm, and you're wearing a damn jacket. No wonder you're shivering."

I heaved a loud sigh. I knew I was thin. He didn't have to point it out. I had to safety pin a few of my skirts so they wouldn't fall off, but I wasn't trying to be skinny; if I had a bigger appetite, I would eat more. Besides, I hated it when Angela poked fun at me for having no curves. She had enough for the both of us, made no effort to conceal them, and that's why all the boys turned their heads at her. Sometimes I swore Steve hated her because he did find her attractive and thought it was disgusting to think his little sister's friend was a looker. I'd seen the frustrated look on his face when he looked at her, but then again, he really might just hate her because he truly hated her. He hated a lot of people.

"I'm serious, kid," he added. "You hardly touched your fries when we stopped for dinner last night, and you look sickly."

I did _not _look sickly. He was making that up just to irritate me. "So I'm just supposed to force myself to eat when I'm not hungry?"

I shot him a pointed look, and he nodded. "Yeah, exactly."

"Whatever you say, Steve..."

I didn't see what the big deal was. I didn't starve myself on purpose like Angela did sometimes. Her body was perfect in every way, but she claimed she'd weight 200 pounds if she didn't watch what she ate.

"C'mon, let's go inside."

He put his cigarette out and pulled me to my feet. He coughed as we walked inside. I guess even his lungs couldn't handle the amount of tobacco he'd tried to put into them today.

As soon as the door was shut, Dad yanked us both aside. "You two could stand to be a little less rude and actually talk to a few of your cousins."

I nodded just to appease him, but Steve immediately saw red. "If I had anything to say to these retards, I would talk to them."

I gasped and elbowed Steve as hard as I could. Maybe avoiding them wasn't so rude, but that was.

Dad slapped him across the face, and Steve got both his hands on Dad's shoulders like he was gonna toss him to the ground. "Stop it," I snapped. "Stop it, both of you."

I grabbed my arms and tried to pry them apart, and much to my shock, they did stop.

"You should just be grateful I bothered to come, Charlie," Steve hissed at him. "It cost me a pretty penny too, and I had to listen to her bitching and moaning the whole damn ride here."

People were looking at us, Dad's relatives. Aunt Rita in particular had her eyes on Steve like she wanted Dad to straighten him out. They never got along. She was nice to me sometimes, but she swore Steve was a problem child from the moment we moved in. God, I hated living here. Steve behaved so poorly for her, and I always cried a lot when she whipped him. He didn't. He always said it didn't hurt that bad, but I knew he was lying. She thought she could just punish all the rebellion out of him, but it only made him meaner to her.

"Steven Scott Randle," Dad said. "I'd like to have a word with you outside."

Steve stifled a laugh. Dad was trying so hard to appear threatening in front of his relatives by using Steve's middle name, it made me sad. They didn't know he had absolutely no control over my brother the same way I did, and part of me almost felt bad for Dad, but it was mostly his fault Steve didn't respect him.

"Sure thing, Charles Nicholas Randle." The grin on Steve's face grew wider, and Dad stared hauling him towards the door.

"Dad, please!"

He shot me a glare and shook his head at me.

"Just leave him alone," I begged. There was a fat chance of that with how rude Steve was acting, but they didn't have to do this. Not here.

I gasped, feeling a sharp smack against the seat of my skirt. Aunt Rita had a firm grip on my arm and yanked me away from the door. "You stay out of it, young lady," she said, gripping me tighter. "Your brother deserves every bit of what's coming to him."

"Shut up, you old hag."

I clapped a hand over my mouth. All the years of bitterness and resentment gave me the courage to talk back to her, but now that the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

All eyes were on us, and Aunt Rita's face grew mighty red. "What did you just call me?"

I had sweat dripping down my face now, I was so frustrated, and though I wished I could take the words back, I wouldn't apologize. I did mean them. That was the scary part. "You've always hated him, and you know it," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

A man stepped forward. I couldn't remember who he was from when Dad introduced us, but he looked real hacked now. "I'll take care of her, Rita."

I held my breath. She wouldn't let some man I didn't even know lay a hand on me, would she?

I panicked, and it wasn't until Aunt Rita told him she could handle me on her own that I calmed down, but then I realized what that meant and started panicking again.

She drug me upstairs. I struggled and considered apologizing, but it happened too fast for me to get the words out.

She shut the door firmly behind us and peered down at me with contempt. "I see your brother's been a bad influence on you."

"I see you haven't changed one bit."

I gritted my teeth. I needed to stop doing this. I was only going to make everything worse for myself, but I hated her. Not as much as Steve did, but now I thought I might.

"It's an awful shame your father took you back." She shook her finger at me disapprovingly. "If you still lived with me, you'd know how to act like a lady. I told him it was a mistake. I told him a single father couldn't raise a young girl properly, and now look at you. He's ruined you."

_He didn't ruin me, he loves me_, I wanted to tell her, but I knew she wouldn't believe a word I said.

"Lucky for you, I know just what to do with naughty girls who talk back to their elders."

I debated running away, but that man I was somehow related to might catch me, and the thought of him getting his hands on me unnerved me even more. At least I'd been raised by Aunt Rita a whole four years of my life.

When she came near me, I bit down on my lip and vowed I wouldn't cry no matter what she did to me.

xxxx

I kept my promise not to cry. It was mortifying more than anything else the way she draped me across her lap like I was still a small child, and when she lifted my skirt up, I thought I was going to die from the embarrassment alone. She was old and didn't hit that hard, not as hard as my Dad could've, but I officially despised her now. Any remotely good memories were gone, and all I could think about was how I hated her then and how I hated her even more now.

The worst part was she announced what I did to my dad in front of the whole family too. Just when I thought I could forget it ever happened, she had to do that. Steve gave me a look that said he was proud of me for calling her an old hag, and I gloated enough it almost took away the sting of embarrassment until Dad got his words in. "You're lucky I didn't hear you say that." His fingers dug into my shoulders, and I must've felt about once inch tall under his grip. "I'd have whupped you good and then washed your mouth out with soap."

He wouldn't have done that. He was just saying that for show, like he'd called Steve by his full name some half hour ago, and I was sick of it. If this was how this trip was going to go until the funeral was over, I wasn't sure how much more of it I could take.

"I think you oughta apologize to your aunt, Julia."

He nudged me forward, but I dug my feet into the carpet. No, I wouldn't apologize. She _was_ an old hag, but the look he gave me terrified me, and I didn't want to find out if he'd made good on his bullshit threats or not.

"Sorry, Aunt Rita." That apology stung more than anything else. More than the punishment, more than the embarrassment, more than anything else in the entire world, and when she wrapped me into a hug, saying, "It's okay, sweetheart," I wanted to spit on her blouse and kick her shins until her old bones collapsed.

My temper was just as bad as Steve's; I just didn't act on it.

xxxx

For the rest of the evening, Aunt Rita acted like I was her little princess. She braided my hair in fancy braids and told everyone how much she missed having me live with her, even scolding my father a couple times for not taking me to visit. She never once mentioned missing Steve, and that bothered me more than anything else to think she'd have considered keeping me while sending my brother away.

It was hard to keep it together and make stupid small talk with her and all my other female relatives. They talked about how much I looked like my grandma when she was a little girl. I guess I had the same curly brown hair, small freckles, same dimples, everything same, same, same, and if one of them made one more comment, I was gonna puke. I didn't want to look like a dead lady I never knew, but I was polite and ate my super quietly without saying a word about how awful her chicken casserole tasted.

By the time night rolled around, I couldn't have been happier. I snagged the bathroom to myself for five minutes to throw on my nightgown and brush my teeth. I wanted to stay in there longer, and maybe take a hot bath or something with the door looked, so nobody could disturb me, but instead I just retreated to the attic by myself.

I curled up in one corner under a blanket with my head in my knees. The stubborn tears I'd fought back were emerging slowly, and I tried to stop them before Steve or worse, Leroy, saw them, but it was too late. Steve was up here now and had crawled beside me. "Jeez, kid, you seriously gonna bawl 'cause we're related to crazy people?"

I shrugged. It wasn't that. Okay, maybe it was, but I just couldn't take it anymore. I didn't know how Dad lived with them so long. No wonder he was messed up. I knew was overreacting. Today hadn't been so awful, not as awful as it could've been, but I was tired, and I just wanted to be home already.

"You gotta learn to toughen up or something. This is a little ridiculous..."

I shrugged again. I didn't need his taunting right now, even if he was right about me being a big baby.

He sighed and put a hand on one of my knees. "Something else wrong?"

I couldn't keep it together anymore and threw my arms around him. "I hate them," I said, probably crying tears all over his shirt. "I hate all of them, even the ones I don't even know."

"Guess you know what it feels like to be me everyday now, huh?"

I pulled away and shook my head at him.

"I hate a lot of people too," he added, and somewhat understood what he was saying. I always thought he was too bitter, but maybe I just didn't remember these people as well as he did.

"I'm sorry, Steve."

"What in the hell are you apologizing for?"

"I don't know..." I hugged him again and didn't let go this time, even though I felt him tense up and knew I was making him uncomfortable.

"Jesus, you're actin' like you're on the last breath of your life or something... Take a few deep breaths."

"I'm not," I choked out, but he only laughed at me.

"Yeah, you kinda are," he said, finally returning the hug. "We'll be gone in a couple days. Don't be so goddamned dramatic."

His insults stung a little. I felt as though I had the right to be as dramatic as I wanted to without him accusing me of being a crybaby. I wanted to tell him to shut up, among a lot of other things, but I calmed down eventually.

He didn't push me away and even rubbed my back like I hoped he might. I couldn't put up a fight after that.

* * *

Firstly, I, the author, do not endorse Steve's use of the R word no matter how irritating his relatives are to him. Just want to throw that out there since I'm personally against its use and would hate to offend anyone. Unfortunately the 1960's weren't exactly a time of being politically correct, and I can see him being rude enough to say it...

Secondly, I do have one selfish plea. At 17, we're about a third of the way through the story, and I can't help but wonder who's all still here and anxiously awaiting update. Or who's still reading and possibly bored with the story? This is likely going to be the longest story I ever post, and I don't want to bore you to death before the end of it, so if you could all check in with me after this chapter, especially if I haven't heard from you in a while, I'd adore that. :) And that's my selfish plea. Thanks all!


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"She okay?"

I heard Leroy's voice and shielded my face against Steve's arm so he wouldn't have to see me like this. It was bad enough Steve did, but at least he was used to it. Leroy probably thought I was some crazy girl who cried all the time, and maybe I was, but he didn't need to know that.

"Yeah, she's fine," Steve answered for me. He sounded bitter, like he was eager to shoo our uncle away, regardless of whether or not this might be the only place for the kid sleep.

I slowly looked up and wiped a few tears on my nightgown sleeve. Leroy smiled at me, and I grew red with embarrassment all over again. "I'm fine," I said, my voice wavering from all the stupid crying I'd done. I hated it here. I just couldn't stand it, but Steve was right. I didn't need to be a big baby about it.

"See, she said it herself," Steve said. "Don't you got other places to be?"

"_Steve_." I elbowed him, but he just elbowed me back.

Leroy shook his head. "Well, this was where Aunt Rita was putting me before you two showed up..."

His tone was sad. Maybe he hated her as much as we did.

"I heard you called her a hag," he added. "That was awful bold of you."

"Thanks..." I didn't know what else to say. Maybe it was bold, but it didn't seem worth it anymore. Dad made me apologize, and if I had to apologize for it and make her think she'd gotten through to me, well, that just made me hacked off all over again.

She didn't deserve that apology. She didn't deserve to think she'd won, and part of me wanted to run to wherever she was just to tell her to go fuck herself. I would too. It might even be death wish, but I didn't have the energy to leave Steve's side. I'd sit here as long as he let me.

"Your dad seemed awfully angry earlier," Leroy spoke up again.

"He's always hacked at me," Steve said.

Leroy sat down a couple feet away from us and shrugged. "Charlie's been real nice to me."

"Really?" Steve laughed so hard I thought he was gonna hurt himself. "Just you wait, he'll show his true colors soon enough."

"I dunno..." Leroy looked at his lap. Steve's laughter probably embarrassed him. "I kind of hope he'll let me come live with y'all."

Steve shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want that."

Leroy shrugged again and looked up. He did want it. Anybody with two eyes could've seen it written all over his face, but Steve just had to be a jerk about this. I didn't want Leroy living with us no more than he did, but he could be a little nicer to him...

"Just ask my sister here how wonderful of a father he is." Steve nudged me, and I punched his arm in return. He shouldn't throw me under the bus like this. Dad was a jerk, but he was okay sometimes.

"He ain't _that_ bad, Steve."

Steve glared at me. "Then how come you're crying on my shoulder instead of his now, huh?"

I wasn't crying anymore. Besides, he already knew why, and it was the same reason he always threw in Dad's face. I trusted him more. For the first six years of my life, I hardly knew our father at all, but Steve was mistaken if he thought I was just gonna go along with his hate talk against Dad.

"Well?" Steve pressed.

I frowned. "You know why."

Steve turned back to Leroy with a smug expression. He didn't say anything, but I could tell what he was thinking, and from the looks of it, Leroy got the message.

He got up and shuffled his feet to where his blankets were. He didn't say a word for the longest time, and when he did, it was just a simple goodnight. I smacked Steve and _hard_. Why was it that he had to be a jerk to everybody in the entire universe except me, Evie, and his friends? And he was still a jerk to all of us too.

Steve smacked me back, but not as hard as I'd hit him. "Jesus, get some sleep before you explode with all this inappropriate anger."

I stared at him incredulously. "_I'm_ the one with inappropriate anger?"

"Shut up and sleep." He pushed down on my shoulders but only hard enough to make me comply. I curled up against the pillow and yanked a blanket over me, giving him a nasty look as I did.

He shook his head at me and got up to shut the small lamp off. Everything went black and I could hardy see him when he sat back down. "I'm serious. Get some sleep," he repeated, less annoyed this time. "You'll feel less bitchy when you wake up, I swear."

He patted my shoulder and rolled over to where he'd set his pillow.

I clutched the blankets closer and shut my eyes, determined to fall asleep before him in case he started snoring or otherwise found a new way to annoy me.

xxxx

_Monday, November 14th, 1966_

The funeral was small and informal. Some of her friends and family said prayers, but apparently Sue Randle, who according to Dad was once obsessed with God and all things Jesus, had fallen out of love with religion before her death and requested a quiet funeral.

Of course that wasn't honored. Aunt Rita arranged for it to be in her local church, despite her sister's wishes, claiming it's what Sue would've really wanted deep down. Still, there was no order to anything and the pastor hardly said a word, and no one looked upset.

Well, no one except Leroy. He cried and cried and cried, and Dad sat next to him, an arm around his shoulder. Why nobody else would, I didn't know. My dad had to be next to a stranger to him, but there he was comforting him amidst this giant mess. Steve and I sat in the back of the church, playing a game of tic tac toe on the back of an old church bulletin. Steve had started it. I thought it was kinda rude myself, but then boredom got the best of me and played along until Steve grew frustrated I'd beat him three times and crumpled up the paper.

When the funeral was over, Dad sent us on our way back to Tulsa. The was the plan he and Steve agreed to this morning. He said some bullshit about us not missing school, but I think he was just hoping to get Steve as far away from his family as possible after yesterday's fiasco, so following our father's orders, we skipped the burial and began the journey back to Tulsa. Steve was so eager to leave, he'd packed up all of his stuff and most of mine before I even woke up.

I wondered how much longer Dad would stay there, and I especially wondered what his job thought of him missing this much work. Steve asked him about that this morning too. I did my best to listen in on the conversation, but Dad only tolerated so many questions before he whacked Steve upside the head and demanded he listen to him.

"God, I can't fucking believe he wanted us to come to this..." Steve grumbled as we approached his car in the church parking lot. "Fucking … bastards and their goddamned … _Fuck_."

"You're not making any sense, Steve," I told him, getting in passenger seat.

"Shit, this was expensive, Julia! You got any idea how much gas has cost me just to fucking get here?"

"Why'd you fucking agree to come then?" I couldn't help but throw his phraseology back at him if he was gonna curse up a blue streak.

"Don't you fucking cuss at me." He slammed the car door and started the engined.

I laughed, and it was only then he realized he'd swore while trying to tell me not to.

I laughed harder. "But you just did like ten times."

He grumbled something under his breath that sounded like "you little shit" and turned on the radio, a clear hint he didn't want to talk anymore.

xxxx

We drove for a long time before either of us said a word to each other. Maybe Steve was worried I'd make a joke about periods again, but he was oddly silent. He was rarely silent. He always had a clever comment about something and gave you his opinion when you didn't, and _especially_ when you didn't, want it.

"Steve?"

No answer.

"Steve?" I asked more forcefully.

He glanced at me and then turned his eyes back to the road, making it clear he'd heard me and simply intended to ignore me now.

I sighed and kicked my feet up on the dashboard. Two could play this game if that was what he wanted. That got him to talk. "Hey, feet down when you're in my car." He pointed to the floor, but I simply crossed my arms and shook my head.

He slapped my shin, and I pulled them down. "Ow, Steve! What the hell was that for?"

"You put your feet up on purpose, I slap you on purpose. I'd say we're even now."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so dang crazy about your piece of shit car—"

"It ain't a piece of shit."

I rolled my eyes. "It would be if you hadn't fixed it up..."

"Then show my handiwork some damn respect."

I heaved a small sigh and leaned against the car door. Yeah, yeah, I knew I'd just walked myself into a terrible argument, but it wasn't entirely my fault... Glory, the most irritating thing in the whole world was being on an extended car ride with your big brother, especially when he was a huge jerk who'd only talk to you when you pestered him into doing it. I didn't intend to be annoying; he _made_ me be annoying.

"What's your problem?"

"You." I gave him an icy look and clenched my teeth. "You're such an asshole. God, Steve..."

I kicked my shoes off and pulled my legs up onto the seat. If I was just wearing socks, he couldn't get pissed at me. I glared at him, tucking my legs to the side of me, paying extra attention to my skirt to be sure it still covered my thighs. "I mean, maybe I just wanted to talk to you, and you had to go and turn it into a fight..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, _I_ turned it into a fight?"

I gave him a firm nod. Maybe I had something to do with it, but it was still mostly his fault.

"Yeah, I just made you put your feet up, didn't I?"

I didn't answer.

"Didn't I?" he demanded.

"Not, but ..." I trailed off, realizing adding "because you ignored me" would sound childish and immature.

"Yeah, I thought so."

I stared out the window in an effort to ignore him, and when he sighed, I figured it worked. I tapped my fingers against the glass slowly, watching the fingerprints form, and glanced back at him. His eyes were firmly locked on the road now.

Another ten minutes of silence went by, and then I decided he was going to talk to me whether he wanted to or not. "Steve, you really think Dad is gonna let Leroy live with us?"

It was the question I was going to ask him before he'd acted like a jerk. It sounded like Steve and Dad had talked about that briefly this morning, but I didn't catch enough of the conversation to be a hundred percent sure.

Steve looked cross at just the suggestion, and I went back to tapping my fingers against the glass, accepting that I might not get a response.

A moment later when I was damn sure he was going to ignore me, he spoke: "I dunno, he never said."

"I really, really hope not..." I realized it sounded whiny, but Dad knew better than to take on something he'd just screw up anyway. He had to know he didn't have the resources to do this. Even if money weren't tight, he couldn't. He seemed hellbent on keeping Rosie with us, which meant he'd probably raise that baby as his own, which meant they were no room for his thirteen year old brother no matter how bad he felt for him.

I turned to Steve. The thought of this happening made me uneasy. "He won't, will he?"

Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Don't hold your breath."

"That means it's gonna happen then?" I twisted a lock of hair around my finger and tugged on it in an effort to distract myself from the rising anger. I would full on freak out about this if I didn't get ahold of myself...

I released my hair and hit my thigh in the process of bringing my hand down. It was too late not to freak out. "He can't do this to us, Steve. He can't! He already brought Rosie back and... he just … he just can't."

Steve sighed, but he didn't say anything.

I shoved myself against the car door, my head knocking against the glass. I hadn't meant to, but this was bullshit.

"Stop it." He grabbed my arm and pulled me up away from the door. "If that door weren't locked, you'd have probably tumbled out of the damn car. Get ahold of yourself. _Jesus._"

"Well, you're mad too!" I snapped back. "Don't even pretend you're not 'cause you are. I know you are."

"Julia, stop it." He gripped my arm tighter, keeping his other hand on the wheel. "I don't wanna have to pull this car over 'cause you're throwing a damn tantrum, so knock it off."

I yanked myself out of his grip and folded my arms across my chest. I wasn't sure what came over me, but I couldn't relax no matter how hard I tried.

"Now I never said it was sure," he said. "Just don't count on it not happening. That's all."

"Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Sounds pretty damn likely if you a—"

"I meant what I said about pulling over," he cut me off and shoot me yet another glare.

"So what?" I demanded. "You can beat tar out of me?"

"I just might if you don't watch it."

Great, just great. I propped my elbows on my knees and pushed my face into my hands. Steve didn't mean it what he'd said, he was just trying to scare me, but he was right. I did need to calm down.

"Don't freak out about it just yet..." I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up slowly. "Shit, kid... Worry about it when it happens."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

"You gonna freak out on me still?"

I shook my head and pushed my back against the seat.

He patted my knee and gave me a weak smile. "Good."

I was still seething on the inside, but managed to keep it in control for the rest of the trip home. Steve was nicer too, and by that, I mean, he talked to me at least. Sometimes he made snide remarks, but it was better than the silence and kept me distracted.

We stopped a few times for gas and once to eat, and by midnight we'd made it back into Tulsa.

xxxx

We were only home about ten minutes before Steve announced he was going to bed. I thought for sure he'd want to see Soda or Evie, but I guess that much driving took a lot out of a person.

He locked the door and pulled me into a quick hug. "Don't wig out in your sleep now, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure I do now," I teased, and he cuffed me upside the head lightly.

"I mean that," he said, as he released me. "Be a normal human being for a change, huh?"

"Yeah, as soon as you start being a nice one."

He smirked. "Night, smartass."

"Night."

I watched him walk to his room and then I lifted my suitcase off the carpet and headed to my own room. As I drug my feet along, I noticed the seams of the suitcase were splitting and fraying even more than when we'd left home, and it almost made me sad. The tattered old thing had belonged to my mother after all. I wasn't sure how it survived when we had next to nothing else of hers. Steve once told me her sisters came and ransacked most of her belongings after she died, so I guess it made sense a ripped apart suitcase wouldn't make the list...

I curled my lip under my teeth as I neared my door, telling myself not to think about it. Not now. Right now I needed to go to bed and nothing more.

I pushed the door open and flipped the light on.

Someone sat up in my bed, and I almost screamed until I realized who it was. "Angela?"

She held a finger over her lip.

I ignored her and took a step in. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She got up and clapped a hand over my mouth. "Shh," she shushed. "If your brother figures out I'm here, he'll kill me."

He'd kill me too, but that was probably the last thing on her mind.

She pushed me towards my bed with her, and we both sat down. It was only then that she took her hand off my mouth. I gasped. " … the hell, Angel?"

She shrugged, like it was no big deal. "I needed somewhere to go, and your window was open a tiny crack."

I lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"I just shoved my fingers under it and pushed up. It opened that easy..."

I rubbed my forehead and gritted my teeth to keep from yelling at her. "So you've been here the whole time we've been gone?"

"Just since last night."

"Angela..." I shook my head. I mean, if she needed a place to go I guess I didn't mind, but still. She'd just invited herself in here? Not to mention we were both dead meat if Steve found out about it.

"Relax, I only hung out in your room, and I promise I didn't eat any food," she went on. "I did take _one_ shower, but like that's gonna hurt anything..."

"Yeah, but you can't just..." I stopped when I saw how she was looking at me. It was with her usual attitude, but there was a sense of panic and desperation written all over her face. You wouldn't have been able to tell if you didn't know her, but I could and I couldn't kick her out now.

"I'm tired," I gave in. "Let's just go to bed."

"Fine by me."

I quick changed out of my clothes and into a nightgown. We'd been friends long enough and I was too tired to care if she saw anything... I settled back down on my bed, and she got up to turn the light off.

As she did, I could see bruises on her thighs peaking out under the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. For a brief second, I thought about asking her about it, but it was late and she probably didn't want to talk about it anyway.

I rolled over on the bed to give her enough room to lie down and pulled the blankets over us both.

I closed my eyes and prayed Steve wouldn't notice she was here before morning.

* * *

Thoughts on what happened to Angela? And will Steve find out she's there? Will Leroy end up in Charlie's care? I like predictions, so voices your theories!

Thanks all for reviews! It was so awesome to hear from so many of you. I would not complain if you left more. Keep letting me know you're still reading and want more! :D


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Tuesday, November 15th, 1966_

I slept maybe an hour before Angela's tossing and turning woke me up.

I sat up and flipped on my nightstand lamp. "Angel, you okay?"

She nodded, but one look at her told me she wasn't. Her eyes were wide open, and she hardly blinked as she stared at my ceiling. Hardly moved too; now that she knew I knew she was awake, she lay completely still, clutching her half of the coverings atop her chest in a bunched knot.

I curled my lip under my teeth, debating if I should lie back down and try to sleep, but I was too worried and kept watching her, thinking of what to say, what to do...

She dodged my looks, not once batting an eye at me or even acknowledging I was there. "You okay?" I repeated, but if I didn't get a response the first time, it was unlikely I'd get one now. Angela could be like that sometimes, oddly silent when you least expected it.

She simply blinked and kept her eyes locked on the ceiling.

"Angela, what happened?"

I knew she might lash out at the question, but I had to ask; at the very least she'd know I cared, but she looked next to dead on my bed. She was pale, like she was scared witless, but despite that, everything about her was gorgeous... She could be beautiful even if she didn't have boobs, and she didn't need make up to look pretty either. It was the most aggravating thing ever. She looked pretty without even trying, and I wonder if she knew that because all she did was bitch about her appearance. Her teeth were crocked and apparently the tiny amount of belly fat on her stomach made her bloated clown as she once told me, but she was actually quite thin. Sometimes I thought maybe too thin. We'd be about the same size if I had any curves at all.

She pushed herself up so that she was leaning forward on her knees. There were tears in her eyes, but she fought them back fiercely, becoming more and more agitated as the seconds passed. Her hands went to cover her eyes; she was losing the battle. Twice in one week had to be some kind of a record for her and told me just how serious this was.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her to me. She resisted at first, but gave up eventually, leaning back into me, hugging me just as tight.

After a few minutes, she started breathing slower, and I could tell my efforts to comfort her were working. "Angela, what happened?" I tried again. This would be the last time I'd ask if she didn't answer, but she was calmer, so I figured it was worth a shot at the very least.

"You don't give up, do you?" She shoved me away and glared at me. "Why the hell is any of it your business?"

I rubbed my forehead and sighed. "I dunno, Angel. Maybe 'cause you snuck in my house while we were gone?"

She bunched her fists and sighed. "I got kicked out, alright?"

I gave her a confused look. "Kicked out?"

She nodded, as if to tell me I was stupid for needing confirmation.

"But … your mom," I said, trying to make sense of it. "Wouldn't she hate that?"

"Oh for Christ's sakes, she goes along with whatever Earl says. You ain't figured that out by now you're fucking stupid..."

"I just ... didn't think he'd actually kick you out," I said quietly. It shouldn't surprise me all that bad considering my dad did it to Steve all the time, but Angela was just a thirteen year old girl... That made it worse. Steve was seventeen and probably wanted to leave half the time anyway.

"Well, it happens." She got off the bed and went straight to her purse in the corner of my room. She placed it in her lap and sat down against my wall. "Shouldn't be all that hard to believe. You saw what he did in front of you the other night, didn't you? Why would it be any better when you're gone?"

I swallowed. I didn't want to think about that.

"Wanna see the bruises?" She cocked her head towards me, pointing to the backs of her thighs.

I shook my head and grimaced to think those were still from that night, but then again he had her pretty hard, much harder than my dad would've ever hit me. It all made my stomach churn, and then he had the balls to kick her out of the house. That house had been her mother's before it was his. She probably still paid most of the bills too.

"How … how often does this happen?"

"What?" She gave me a dirty look. "How often does he hit me or how often does he kick me out?"

I just stared at her, unsure what to say. She looked pissed I was asking.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You really are stupid, aren't you?"

"I … I don't see how it's stupid to ask."

"You been living in a bubble all your life?" she asked. "You think everything's just ice cream and rainbow sprinkles at my place?"

"No." I shook my head firmly. "No, Angel, I just..."

She glared at me, and I shut my mouth. She crossed her arms across her chest, and we didn't say anything to each other for a while.

"He doesn't kick me out often," she answered my question finally. "Well, he does, but Tim usually sneaks me back in... and they don't even notice."

"So Tim wasn't there?" I asked, putting the pieces together. As much as she claimed she hated him, I wasn't stupid. I could tell he did a lot for her, and she needed him more than she'd ever admit.

She shook her head. "I dunno where the hell that bastard is. Haven't seen him in a couple days. Curly either."

"Shit." I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry, Angela."

She sneered at me. "Like your brother never fucked off before... I'm fine, Julia," she insisted. "It's cute that you're all concerned, but I've survived a heck of a lot worse, so let's just stop with the twenty goddamned questions and..." She slapped her leg. "_Shit_."

"...Angela?"

"I'm _fine_, okay?" she snarled. "I'm fucking fine."

She wasn't fine, but too afraid to tell her otherwise, I just nodded.

She flipped me off and started digging around her purse. I watched her pull out a lighter and a cigarette, and I immediately got up to open the window. Everyone smoked up a chimney around here so it wouldn't matter if she smoked with it shut, but when I could manage, I liked my room to smell smoke free. The smell didn't bother me anymore, but it was so much easier to breath when the air was clear.

I walked past her, pausing for a moment to stare at her, and took a seat on my bed again. I grabbed a pillow and clutched it on my lap, wondering how much longer she was going to be hostile towards me. Knowing her that could be as short as a couple more minutes or as long as an entire week.

She'd flicked the lighter and stared at the flame a long time. She peered at it as long and blankly as she did my ceiling, and it made me uncomfortable. "Angela ..."

She ignored me at first and didn't budge an inch.

"You tryin' to burn my room down?"

She grumbled something under her breath and lit the cigarette. I squinted at it. Something about it didn't like normal. Maybe she was trying a new brand or something, but she was holding it differently than normal too.

She got up and walked back towards me with it dangling between her lips. When she reached me, she took it out of her mouth and held it out to me with a raised eyebrow, and that's when I realized it wasn't a cigarette. If it was, it wasn't a normal one. "That … that ain't what I think it is, is it?"

"No," she told me with a straight face. "No, it's just a cigarette, Jule."

She sure wasn't smoking it like a cigarette.

She laughed. "C'mon, it'll mellow you out."

My eyes widened. "That's grass?" I shook my head. It couldn't be. "You're smoking grass in my room? Angel, what the—"

She clapped her hand over my mouth and smirked at me. "Shhhh, you'll wake up, Steve."

Steve. Oh God, Steve would _hate_ this. "Angela, put it out," I demanded. "This is _my_ room, and... and you have to put that out right now."

"Relax," she drawled out, completely ignoring my request.

I started to shake I was so pissed at her, and that just made her laugh more.

"Put. It. Out."

I tried to grab it from her, but she rolled over before I could. "And waste a perfectly good joint? God, you're no fun..."

She rolled over again and leaned back against my pillows. I sat still for a few minutes, unsure what to do.

I wanted to slap her so hard it'd wipe the pathetic grin off her face, but as mad as I was, I had to admit she already looked more subdued than she did minutes ago.

She sat up and leaned against me, forcing it between my lips. "It's your first time, you won't get that high," she said, as though it was supposed to assure. "Don't be a prude. I won't out you, I promise. You can trust me, Julie. We're best friends..."

She never called me Julie ever. "Best friends?" I questioned.

"Best, _best _friends," she said, smiling at me, like something about what she'd said was funny.

"Steve's a light sleeper," I grumbled, pushing it away from me.

I had to think of some excuse she'd listen to. Steve wasn't a light sleeper, but she didn't need to know that. He slept like a rock, but not even that could comfort me... He _would_ wake up. I just knew he would, and then he'd toss Angela out, and kill me by skinning me alive, and I hadn't even smoked it.

She took a couple more hits before she tried to push it on me again. If she wasn't high before, she definitely was now.

She stared at my wall, but her expression wasn't as cold as it was before. It was more bewildered, and I hated to admit that seeing how relaxed she was made me want to try it. Damn it, I shouldn't want to. I really, really shouldn't, but Steve had tried it before, hadn't it? For all I knew, maybe he smoked it regularly, and even if he didn't, he couldn't get pissed at me for doing it _once _if he had before … could he?

I sighed. These were stupid excuses. I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't, but couldn't you get high just from people smoking it around you anyway? Maybe I already was getting high, and if I was already getting high, smoking it could do no worse...

Angela giggled and rocked her head towards me, holding it out to me. "You'll love it." She leaned forward and stroked my cheek with her other hand. "Try a little?" She held it closer to my lips. "For me, Julie? Please?"

I nodded hesitantly—this was going to end terribly—and took it from her. She let out a tiny affirmative squeal, kissed my cheek and collapsed into my pillows. Glory, she was stoned. Absolutely fucking gone, and suddenly I wanted to be too. After this weekend, after everything, I felt like I deserved it a little, but it didn't make me any less terrified.

I took a deep breath and put it between my lips. Did I just smoke it like it was a cigarette? I had no idea what to do, and Angela looked too far gone to even bother helping me at this point.

I took in a small amount as best I could and tried not to cough. I waited a couple seconds. Was I supposed to feel something? Anything? So far it was like smoking a nasty flavored cigarette, but I took a deep breath, put it too my lips again and breathed in more this time. This time I choked on the fumes, but I felt something. A very small something. Maybe I was imagining it because I wanted to feel something so bad and what I felt now was next to unnoticeable, but I _did_ feel a little lighter and oddly heavier at the same time, so I took another hit and swore that would be it in case it did any real damage to me.

I handed it back to Angela. She smiled and took another hit even though it was clear she didn't need anymore.

I leaned back into my pillows and breathed deeply. The room reeked something awful and I wondered if it would still smell tomorrow. Christ, Steve was gonna kill me... My hands shook with terror. That was _all_ I could think about: Steve. _Steve, Steve, Steve_. Damn it, I couldn't even enjoy the feeling as it took over me. All I felt was panic, panic, panic. Angela said you didn't get very high the first time, so maybe it wasn't the joint. Maybe I was just scared because I was scared and …

I closed my eyes. Relax, Julia, relax. Steve won't find out. Everything will be _fine_. I opened my eyes and turned to Angela.

"Like it?" she asked.

I shrugged. I didn't know. I did, but I didn't at the same time, and I imagined I'd like it a hell of a lot more if I didn't have to worry about Steve finding out about it.

She smirked at me and I choose to ignore her, leaning into my pillows more and spreading my limbs across the comforter to get more comfortable. They were soft, really soft. I had a nice bed, a nice room …

Wow.

Okay, maybe I did feel something.

_Wow. _That was the only intelligent thought on my mind.

Angela rolled up onto her arm and peered down at me. "See," she said, the corners of her mouth oozing smugness. "I told you it'd mellow you out."

She patted my head and laid down again. "Oh God ..." I said.

"What?"

"Oh .. I … I don't know."

I didn't know. I didn't know anything, except everything felt different in a good way. I closed my eyes and felt like I was drifting to sleep or somewhere, but I felt good. I couldn't deny that. I felt really good.

xxxx

Angela nudged me awake the next morning. I batted her hand away, but she pushed harder.

"Just a few more minutes," I groaned.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," she kept on. "It's almost noon."

"What?" I shot up and shook my head at her. "Steve... Does he know? Where is he?"

My heart started beating faster, and she only laughed at me. "Relax, I haven't seen him."

"He's gone?"

She shrugged. "I don't fucking know. It ain't my job to keep track of your brother, but yeah, it would seem that he's gone."

I sighed and tried to calm down.

She smirked. "See? No need to panic..." She got up and walked over to my dresser mirror and started applying eyeliner to her eyes.

I shook my head at her, even though she was too busy with the eyeliner to see it. "I … I hate you, Angela Shepard," I spat at her, remembering what happened last night. "I hate you."

She whipped around. "Oh, do you now?"

I nodded. "I _do_."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror. "I can't imagine why," she said, pulling her the skin around her eyes so she could reach the crevices. "Seemed like you wanted to. Just needed a little encouragement is all."

I slumped my shoulders. She didn't force me to do it necessarily, I guess, but she sure as hell encouraged me, and that was enough reason to be pissed at her as far as I was concerned.

"God, you know, you're lucky," she said.

"Lucky?"

"Most people don't get high the first time... " She stretched out her other eye, and I wondered why she bothered with this. Her eyes were pretty enough without it, and now that I was mad at her, it made me all the more jealous.

"Yeah, you mentioned that before," I spat at her, getting off the bed and approaching her. "You're a real bitch, Angela, you know that? You just … you just think you can make people do whatever the hell you want, do you?"

I got closer to her face, yanking the eyeliner out of her hands and throwing it on the floor to grab her attention. "Do you?"

For a second I thought she might slap me the way she looked at me, but she just bent down and picked it up. "You shouldn't waste this," she said with a smirk. "This here … This is _damn_ good eyeliner."

She turned around, and I backed away, realizing my outburst had absolutely no affect on her. I hated that about her. I really did. I could probably start punching her right now, and she'd think nothing of it.

I sat back down on my bed. "Did you … did you get rid of it?"

"Christ, Julia." She whipped around and propped a hand on her hip. "Do you think I'm stupid? Of course I hid the evidence. Steve will never know."

"How can you be so sure?"

She glanced around the room. "See anything anywhere?"

I looked around anxiously and shook my head in defeat. No, she'd gotten rid of the joint, and now I felt stupid because it wouldn't be hard to get rid of something that small.

"And see that?" She pointed to a candle on my nightstand. "Found that in your kitchen. That'll get rid of the smell..."

I shook my head. That was strong smelling stuff. A burning candle wouldn't make it all go away that easily.

"We left the window open all night too, you know," she added, flipping back around. "Relax, he'll never know a thing."

I sneered at her. How much more eye makeup she did need anyway?

"You worry too much," she said.

I sighed. Maybe she was right, but somehow, I doubted that.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews so far everyone! I think I was a little too worried you'd be upset about what Angela did here... Any more comments would be welcomed and adored!

If you aren't too made at her for getting Julia high, take a look at the story I'm working on for her - Expensive Sadness. Julia will be a character later, so you might be interested. Thanks all! :) I adore your support so much!


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Anddddd at 20, this is now officially my longest chapter story up. :D I'm excited! Thanks for the epic support. I can't believe we're this far already.

* * *

Steve didn't wake up for at least two hours after Angela left.

He must've been damn exhausted to sleep this late, and for once, Angela was right; he wouldn't find out. As long as I acted normal and said nothing, my brother would never find out. Glory, I found that hard to believe. Under any normal circumstances, there was no way he'd sleep through our chaos that easily. I couldn't bank it. Not when he was paranoid about everything, _especially_ when it came to the people he hated. If he knew Angela was here, his suspicion meter should be shooting off the charts, but as far as I could tell, everything was in the clear.

"Bout time you got up," I said when Steve emerged from his room. "It's almost two o'clock."

"You try drivin' a whole damn day and then come talk to me." He rubbed his forehead and sat down on the couch. "I thought you'd be at school?"

I shook my head. "I was tired… Slept in too." That wasn't even a lie considering I got up around noon. All I had to do was keep a straight face now; if I could do that, I wouldn't have to lie. There'd be no need. Not telling him something wasn't the same thing as lying, but still, it was a struggle to keep still.

_Stay calm. Stay calm. You can get away with this if I could just stay calm_, I repeated to myself over and over again, but it wasn't working. Of course he noticed something was up right away.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I tried to look at him as I said it, but I couldn't. Every time my eyes met his, it felt like he could read my mind.

"Bullshit, what're you so anxious about?"

"I thought you'd be mad I skipped," I lied. That sounded believable enough. Lord knows, he'd been pissed about that before, so he had to believe me now.

For a second I thought he believed me, especially from the pause, but when he spoke, it was obvious he didn't. "Well, shit, we're both tired… Ain't like you're cuttin' with Angela, so why would I care about that?"

"I dunno."

Angela… God, she made it worse. He might be cool about the grass—I didn't know for sure but I could hope—but he would never be okay with Angela being a part of any of it. Just dropping her name alone would make the hair stand still on the back of his neck.

I sighed and tried to get ahold of myself. I _could _get away with this. I needed to calm myself down and be happy for the once in a lifetime opportunity that might never come again, but somehow I couldn't be happy. I just couldn't.

It didn't feel right, pulling all that crap behind his back… At first I was relieved to discover he was still sleeping. I sat down on the couch to read a book, and everything was wonderful, but I couldn't get past chapter one. All I could think about was what happened last night and the guilt chipped away at my conscience until I couldn't stand it any longer. Now that he was actually sitting in front of me, it was unbearable. I had to tell him. It was insane that I should want to—why would anyone in their right mind want to rat themselves out?—but I did. I really did. At the very least I wouldn't have to feel like shit anymore. The only question was how.

"Alright, you just fed me a bunch of bullshit. What's really goin' on?" He turned to me and pointed a finger at me to make it clear he wanted the real answer this time. "Still irritated Leroy might be living with us? I thought we sorted that out yesterday …"

_C'mon, Julia, just tell the truth_, I pleaded with myself, but when I opened my mouth, something else came out: "Yeah, that's it… I, uh, I had a nightmare about it." Another big lie. I slept beautifully. Whether from the joint or exhaustion I didn't know, but I'd slept better than I had in a long time.

I looked up at him, hopeful he'd buy it.

"Uh huh," he said. "Anyone ever tell you you're a shit liar?"

"Yeah, but I ain't lyin' this time!"

"I'd bet money on it. That's how sure I am you are."

I kept quiet and stared at my feet again.

"Wanna know how I can tell?" he asked.

I shook my head, but had a feeling he'd tell me anyway. I was right. "You can't stop shaking your legs, you can't look me in the face, and you keep mumbling your words whenever you speak… Tell me, how exactly are you not lying?"

"Don't mean nothing," I mumbled and sighed when I realized I'd just proved him right.

"Don't mean nothing," he mocked me right back and raised an eyebrow, as if that was supposed to be my cue to spill it now.

"Well?" he pressed when I didn't answer.

"I … I smoked grass with Angela," I spat out before I could decide against it. I thought I'd be relieved once I spoke the words, but instead, I was terrified.

"I won't do it again," I added. "I promise."

He was speechless for a second. "When?" he demanded, a confused look on his face. "We've been gone two days, and you went to bed early…"

"Last night."

"You mean you snuck out?"

"No."

"Then _how_ exactly did you get stoned with Angela?" he asked. "Not sayin' you didn't do it, but you're not making a whole lot of sense, kid. I don't know how the story can get worse, so why don't you just admit you snuck out before I completely lose it?"

He wasn't screaming at me, but I could feel the tension building. "I didn't though," I insisted. "She came _here_. Wait, I mean, she already was her. She … she snuck in our house while we were gone."

"Sure she did," he dismissed it instantly. "We locked all the doors, and you don't see any broken windows, do you?"

I didn't answer.

"Do you?" he shouted.

I guess he was done trying to be calm now. I clammed up, wishing I'd have never said a damn thing, but I couldn't be silent now. He might assume worse things if I said nothing. "She said mine was open a crack," I explained. "Honest, Steve, I was gonna tell her to leave, but—"

"Bullshit," he broke in. "If you're smoking up with her, you probably wanted her here. Don't deny it."

I stood up and crossed my arms across my chest, shaking my head fiercely. "I did, but—"

"Sit down," he cut me off again, pointing to the couch cushion I'd just vacated.

"No."

"_Now_."

"Why? You won't listen to me anyway…" I started walking away, but he yanked me back forcefully enough I stumbled onto the couch.

"You were lying to me not even a minute ago," he said, as I sat myself up.

I glared at him. "If you can tell when I'm lying so well, shouldn't you be able to tell when I'm telling the truth?"

Instant silence. I expected a clever comeback, but apparently I had the upper hand in the argument now. "Look, I wanted her gone, but then she told me she got kicked out, alright?"

He shrugged, and I saw red. That should mean something to him, damn it, that should mean something. "Where the hell else was she gonna go?" I demanded. "She's only thirteen, Steve. God!"

"I'm sure she could've found somewhere," he grumbled, and that was it for me.

Without pausing a second to think about it, I slapped him as hard as I possibly could, hard enough I could feel the sting in my hand, but no matter what he said or did to me, I wouldn't be sorry. How dare he say that when he ran to his friends all the time, and it was worse because we'd argued about this before. If he could understand it then, why not now?

"The fuck'd you do that for?" I expected a slap back, but no hit came.

"You're a goddamned hypocrite, Steve!" I yelled so loud my voice ached.

"I don't break into people's houses," he yelled back. "The Curtis's _let _me in."

"She didn't break in!"

"Fine. She snuck in. Whatever. Same difference. You never invited her either way."

"She shouldn't need an invitation if she needs a place to stay," I kept on. It was stupid arguing with him like this, especially when he knew about the smoking now, but I couldn't let him win this one. "And … And I'll bet anything Ponyboy feels the same way about you coming there as you feel about Angela coming here, so you can shut up, Steve Randle... You can shut your fucking mouth."

I didn't anticipate he'd shut up. I thought he'd lose it even more, and I'd have to remind myself it was worth it to say, to call him out on his worst double standard ever. It felt amazing, but I was still petrified the backlash would be twenty times as scary.

His ran a hand through his hair and hesitated for a second, which gave me some hope. At the very least he could admit I was right about this. "Okay, I get it."

"I thought you already got it a couple night's ago." I shouldn't push my luck, but I couldn't help it. He deserved to hear this. "Guess somebody was lying to me when they said they understood, huh?"

He turned to me and gave me one hell of a glare. "Yeah, and I guess you have a death wish over your head, 'cause you keep arguing with me when you're the one who got stoned last night."

I blushed, forgetting I'd admitted that before we got to arguing about Angela. "Well … it was just a joint, and I didn't even smoke it that much."

"I don't care." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Apparently you still did it."

"Well, you should care, 'cause I can name a lot of worse things I could've done..."

He shook his head. "Worse things or not, it's still pretty damn bad. For a kid your age at least."

"I'll bet you smoke it when you were younger."

"Yeah, and I'll bet you'd _love_ to know how old I was too. Try fifteen. That good enough for you?"

He was lying. He had to be, but the look on his face told me he wasn't, and the guilt resurfaced. No matter how he looked at it, the situation would appear bad to him and nothing I said could change that.

"Well, congratulations," he said.

"Why?"

"Congratulations," he repeated. "You just gave me a hundred reasons not to trust you."

I sighed. I wouldn't argue, but it still felt like an overreaction, even from him. "All over one joint?" I questioned.

"Yeah, and know why? 'Cause if you're twelve."

I stared at my socks and prepared myself to hear another "you're just a little kid" speech. I was used to it by now, but it still made me feel like shit.

"Christ, what the hell are you gonna be doin' when you're thirteen, or worse, fourteen? If you keep hanging out with Angela, there's no telling what all you'll do."

"Steve," I tried. Maybe Angela was bad news, but that didn't automatically make me bad news. That'd be like saying everyone who hung out with his friends Dallas was a bad person, but I held my tongue before I mentioned that. His dead friends were a sensitive issue and would be for a long time.

"Truth stings, huh?"

"But I'm always the good kid," I insisted. "You're the bad one… "

"Don't rob me off my title then."

"It was just once," I repeated, even if it wouldn't make a bit of difference in what he thought. Knowing he was upset about it stung more than anything else.

"Why don't we ask Dad what he thinks about "just one"?"

I shook my head. That was something he rarely threatened unless he was blackmailing me for a bullshit reason. He always just lectured me himself. Why would he change now? "For all I know, maybe he smokes it…" That wasn't going to help my cause, but his suggestion felt like he was betraying me.

"Maybe," Steve admitted. "But think he'll see it that way?"

I swallowed, realizing Steve was right. Dad would be just as much a hypocrite about that as Steve was about Angela staying here. "You're … you're not gonna tell him, are you?"

He shrugged. "I dunno yet."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"You keep hanging out with Angela, and I just might."

He gave me one last glare and headed towards the kitchen.

I wanted to scream something at him for once again making Angela the root of all evil, but if I did that, he'd tell Dad for sure.

Not that it'd matter much anyway. That was one thing I couldn't promise him. He could get as irritated about it as he damn well pleased, but I'd never stop being her friend.

* * *

AN: Sorry it's short and kind of filler. At least you got the outcome of whether or not Steve would find out? Anyway … think he'll really tell Charlie now?

Thanks once again for reviews! I've been so busy and have the busiest couple days of my life ahead of me, but I hope to update Sunday night. Maybe Saturday if I get really motivated… Reviews would be fantastic little motivators, so please leave some. I heart you all! :D


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Wednesday, November 16__th__, 1966_

The next day at school I did my best to avoid Angela. Even though I'd continue to be her friend from now until the end of time, I was still awful pissed at her; it was a mean thing to do to me. She could claim all she wanted she had good intentions, to calm me down or whatever the hell else she thought, but it wouldn't change that it was mean. She must've taken advantage of the rough weekend I had too. She probably knew I'd be more likely to persuade, and I knew for a fact she got a kick out of getting me to do bad things. It made sense it was on purpose. No one could convince me otherwise, so I thought today would be better spent without her.

Luckily I didn't have many classes with her, and it was easy to avoid her in the hallway. Her locker was close to mine, sure, but she was too busy talking to boys to notice me, and by the time lunch rolled around, I sat next to Wendy and Leslie instead.

"Hey," I greeted, setting my tray down.

Wendy looked up from her lunch and sighed. Leslie looked nervous, and I began to question why I chose to sit here in the first place. They always loved it when I sat with them; why not this time?

"It's funny you should want to sit with us today when you haven't for the past two weeks," she said.

Leslie gave a small nod, to tell me he agreed with her, and that made me cringe more than Wendy's words. I felt unwelcome, but I remained seated for a while. We ate in silence until Wendy broke it again. "I guess you only eat with us when you can't eat with them." Wendy glanced over to Rachel and Angela and then back to me. "Is that what it is?"

I swallowed. I guess she was right, as much as it pained me to admit that. They were my backup table. "Sorry, I…" I began.

"Save it," she told me harshly. "We've been nothing but nice to you, and you just ignore us."

"But—"

"I even invited you to my birthday and you never came."

_Shit. _Her birthday party was this weekend, and suddenly the coldness made sense. I guess they both assumed I blew it off. "I, uh, I forgot," I told her quietly. I didn't want to say I was at my grandma's funeral. That might sound like too convenient of an excuse even if it was the truth. They were already angry, and I'd only make it worse.

Wendy said nothing, which led me to believe the awkward silence would continue, but much to my surprise, Leslie started in on me too. "That was pretty mean of you, Julia…"

"I'm sorry."

"I mean, I thought you liked us."

"I do… I just…"

"I think maybe you should just sit with them if you're only gonna sit with us every once and a while," he told me, and Wendy nodded in agreement. "I mean, it's like we're not even friends anymore."

I nodded. That certainly spelled it out for me. I picked up my tray and left before I could say anything to make the situation worse.

His words stung a lot, but mostly because he had a point. I had ignored them in favor of Angela and Rachel, and I couldn't deny that. God, it was bitchy of me. I couldn't keep them on the backburner and expect them to be my friends all the same. I knew that, but it didn't take the bite of the rejection in the least bit.

I took a seat at my usual table and shoved today's entrée around with my fork. I couldn't be sure what it was a casserole of some sort, but I was too shaken up to bother eating it.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at me. "Didn't wanna sit with us today, hmm?"

Angela reached out and slapped her.

"No, I just hadn't sat with them for a while…" I tried to explain. "But they didn't want me there." I stared at my food to avoid eye contact with both of them and tried as hard as I could not to tear up. I liked Leslie. Wendy too, I guess, but Leslie and I were great friends, and I ruined it. Probably not forever, but the thought that I'd hurt him in any sort of way still bothered me. He was my good friend, and I ignored him for the longest time. How could I do that? Angela had done it to me with Candy, and I knew firsthand just how annoying and awful it was.

The tears pooled in my eyes and fell despite my best efforts to stop them.

"Jeez, what happened?" Rachel asked.

She sounded truly concerned, but apparently Angela didn't think so, because she slapped her again.

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and picked up my fork. "I'm fine," I told them both and somehow managed to keep it together for the rest of lunch. After lunch, Angela pulled me aside and dragged me outside behind the dumpsters. She liked to smoke out here, and I thought for a second, I'd kill her if she tried to get me to do anything again. She held her pack out to me, cigarettes for sure this time, and I reluctantly took one.

I got a few drags in before I couldn't keep it together any longer. The tears erupted, and there was no stopping them now. It felt like I was crying about everything, not just Wendy and Leslie, but the entire weekend, Leroy, and Steve giving me the cold shoulder all last night too. I sat down on the concrete and smoked the cigarette anxiously.

Angela joined me and slung an arm around me. "Need me to start some rumors about somebody?" she offered. "I handled Candy just fine, didn't I?"

I shook my head firmly. God no. Not to Leslie. He wouldn't deserve it. If anything, I deserved to have a rumor started about me. "No," I told her. "I just … I've been a lousy friend to both of them."

Angela shrugged. "Shit, I'm kind of a lousy friend to you, and you're still friends with me."

"Yeah, but you're different… This ain't the same thing." She was different. We'd been friends since we were small. We were almost like sisters that way, and you could fight with your siblings and still be their friend at the end of the day.

Angela said nothing. She didn't try to argue with me about it, and I appreciated that. She'd be wrong. This was my fault. It was so much easier to be rejected when it wasn't your fault. I was used to that—that happened all the time—but now that it was my fault, I didn't know how to take it.

I took another puff of the cigarette she gave me and tried to let the fumes calm me. As much as I hated to admit it, it didn't have the same effect as that joint, but I'd never, ever smoke one again, no matter how much I liked it.

As I sat there and smoked, it only took me a few more minutes to decide Angela and I could be back on good terms again. She handed me another cigarette, and I took it, hoping we could just sit out here and smoke for the rest of the day. It sounded nice, nicer than going to History or any of my other stupid classes, and I could tell from the expression on her face she agreed with me with me. I guess that was how we came to the mutual agreement to skip. She didn't have to pressure me into it this time, and that probably blew her mind that she didn't have to nag one bit.

We booked it for her house. It felt weird going there after what happened a few nights ago, but she assured me no one else would be home. When we arrived, she was wrong. Tim was sleeping on the couch, probably hungover or something. She held a finger over her lips, begging me to be quiet as we walked past him, but he immediately sat up. There was no avoiding this confrontation. I expected him to look pissed, but he almost looked relieved to her, and it baffled me. "Why haven't I seen you in days? And ain't you two supposed to be in school?"

"Why ain't you at school?" she asked back and avoided the first question entirely.

He narrowed his eyes, apparently not expecting her to ask that. "Where're you been?" he repeated.

She crossed her arms. "Julia's."

I nodded to confirm her answer. Not last night. I had no clue where she'd been last night, and she probably wouldn't tell me if I asked, but at least I could help her out where Tim was concerned.

He glared at me and back to her. "Why?"

She shrugged.

He got up and approached her. "Julia, if you'll excuse us for a second, I'd like to talk to my sister here."

"Fuck off, Tim," she sneered, but it did her no favors.

He only grabbed her by her arm and started dragging her upstairs.

"You have to tell me where the hell you're goin' if you're gonna be gone that long, you hear me?" Tim said, but then the door slammed and I couldn't make out anything more.

It didn't sound too awful. The sounds of muffled voices still carried through the walls, but I could tell they weren't screaming at each other. With them, that was a damn good sign. The arguing didn't continue for long, and after about minute, she emerged.

She walked downstairs and walked up to me. "You should probably go," she told me, avoiding eye contact with me. "Tim told me to tell you that."

Somehow that felt like a lie, like she wanted me to go and was using her brother as a convenient excuse.

I nodded and headed towards the door. She didn't bother saying goodbye and rushed back upstairs, confirming my suspicion she wanted me gone.

I couldn't help but wonder why but didn't stick around long enough to ask. Tim didn't seem happy, but at least I knew he wouldn't treat her the way Earl had no matter how pissed he was. I waited a split second before shutting the door behind me to be sure there was no screaming, but when I finally heard something, I had been suspicious for nothing. They truly were only talking.

xxxx

With no other destination in mind, I went home and nearly shit my pants when I saw Rosie sitting at our kitchen table. It shouldn't have surprised me so bad. I knew she'd be back eventually, but it was just the icing on the cake to the terrible morning I'd had.

"Little early for you to be getting home from school, hmm?" she said, stirring her coffee.

She pointed to the chair beside her and bobbed her head for me to sit.

I sighed and listened.

"You better not be skippin'," she said. "If your Daddy hears about that, boy, he'll—"

"Shut it," I snapped at her. She didn't have to tell me. If he heard about that, he'd turn me over his knee the same way he always did. It wasn't news to me, and she was only taunting on purpose because she probably wanted to see me get in trouble.

She gave me a look that said she would definitely tell him about my attitude problem now, but it wasn't an attitude problem. It was her, and it was shame she couldn't stay gone longer.

I rolled my eyes and ran off to my room, slamming the door behind me. "Julia, don't you _dare_ slam that door," she barked after me, but it was too late. I already had.

For a second I thought she might chase after me and try to punish me herself again, but she didn't. In fact, if I listened real closely, it sounded like she was crying. Glory, she was crazy.

I shouldn't be happy I made her cry, but apparently she cried as often and easily as I did. Maybe even more, and I couldn't help the satisfied grin that crept across my face that I'd caused her pain. Unfortunately her return meant she was probably here to stay for quite some time, but that didn't mean I had to like her or even be nice to her. It might get me into shit with Dad, but in the end it might be worth it to mess with her. She deserved it.

I lay down on the bed and shut my eyes in hopes of a nap, but a knock on the door kept me from sleeping. "Go away," I snapped, assuming it was Rosie, but Steve invited himself in.

"I heard you arguing with Rosie."

I rolled over to my side. "Like you'd give a shit about that."

"Hey, maybe I was just comin' in here to congratulate you," he said. "Shit, I'm damn happy you finally see through her bullshit."

"I hate her. I hate even more than Aunt Rita."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sit up. I wanna talk to you."

He helped me up and looked me in the eye. "Now I got a call from Dad last night while you were asleep," he told me. "And you're not gonna like what he told me."

"Leroy's coming here?" I guessed.

I hoped to God he'd tell me I was wrong, but he nodded his head to confirm it. "Yeah, he and Dad'll be coming home in a week, and I figured you're rather hear it from me first."

Hearing it from him first made no difference in my reaction. For the time being that seemed like the worst possible thing Dad could do to us. "But he can't do that," I shouted back at Steve. "He's an idiot. We don't have room for him here!"

Steve must've expected me to freak out, because he stayed calm, surprisingly calm. "Hey, I don't like it no more than you, but it is what it is."

"Don't say that," I spat at him. If there was one thing I hated it was that phrase: _it is what it is_. It was a stupid excuse for when things were really shitty, and nothing comforted me less. "It's fucking insane is what it is!"

I shot off of my bed and paced back and forth until Steve grabbed me by my shoulders and stopped me. "You need to calm down," he told me firmly. "It ain't gonna help a goddamned thing if you freak out like this again."

I rolled my eyes.

"No, you listen to me, Julia," he kept on. "I'm sick of this overdramatic bullshit. It ends now. You don't think I'm pissed too? I'm damn pissed. Hell, I yelled at him so loud I'm surprised you slept through it, but there's nothing we can do, so we're just gonna have to deal.

I slumped my shoulders and shifted my gaze to the floor. He got to yell at Dad, and I was just supposed to take the news quietly now? That wasn't fair at all.

Still, he was right. There was nothing we could do. If Dad made up his mind, there was no changing it.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Friday, November 18__th__, 1966_

For two days I moped around and acted as dramatic and moody as I pleased. Even though I knew I had to eventually accept Dad's decision, I felt entitled to a few days of mourning. We barely knew Leroy—Dad included—so he couldn't except us to be happy about it, but apparently he did.

Rosie called him Wednesday night to tell him about what "a little shit" I'd been to her, and he must've chewed me out for ten minutes straight, promising skin me if I didn't apologize and act decent until he got home. I should've known to keep my trap shut after that, but I asked him about Leroy. I was extra cautious not to sound angry, but he still yelled at me for another five minutes about all the stress his little brother had been through and told me to quite acting like a spoiled brat about it. I _did_ feel bad about Leroy's situation; I felt bad he lost his mother and I especially felt bad that he had no other family willing to take him, but this was crazy, and he had to know that. Even Rosie told him he was crazy, and when a crazy person thinks something is crazy, you know it's crazy for sure.

When I got home today, I was relieved for the weekend. Angela and I had plans for tonight, or she did, and I was happy to tagalong. She assured me it was nothing too wild. I wasn't sure I believed that, but anything to get out of the house was a welcomed distraction, and at the very least I knew whatever we did wouldn't be boring.

I scurried off to my room in search of an outfit that didn't look boring, but before I got there, I noticed Rosie frantically packing her bags. I'd hardly talked to her since she ratted me out, but curiosity got the best of me and I approached her slowly. She looked winded, but kept throwing things in her suitcase. "Rosie, what's goin' on?" I asked.

She sighed loudly and whipped around to face me. "Your daddy's a fucking liar."

I stared at her for a second, unsure how to react. I had no doubt he was, but I'd never heard her cuss like that.

"He goes out and buys all sorts of shit for my baby. Says he's getting a big time promotion or something," she rattled on. "That should've been my first clue. He's a fucking painter. What kind of promotion can you get when you're a fucking painter?"

I shrugged, and she went straight back to packing, shoving things into her suitcase like the cops were after her and she had to make a break for it.

"So did he get a promotion?" I asked. My guess was no. Whatever happened was bad, bad, bad if she was packing everything up like this, but she had to tell me more. She couldn't leave me hanging like this.

"He got fired, Julia," she said, not even looking up from her bag. "Apparently he was gonna get himself a better job, and that was gonna be the so-called fucking promotion..."

"He got fired?"

"Oh yeah. He got his ass fired and you think he has the decency to tell me? No. Found out from Peter. Goddamn Peter King had to tell me."

Peter was one of Dad's drinking buddies and arguably his best friend, even though I'd only met him a handful of times. They went out after work every weekend, and I swore my dad was jealous Peter was single and had no children to tie him down. He'd never outright said it, but you could tell he wished he didn't have me and Steve sometimes.

"So you're leaving?" I tried to hide the hopefulness in my tone. It was a shame it'd take Dad losing his job to make her go, and I should be upset about that. We were poor as dirt to begin with, but all I could think about was how grateful I was that Rosie might be gone for good.

"You bet your ass I am," she said. "I can't raise a kid with that irresponsible shithead."

I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming at her. That irresponsible shithead was my father, and apparently she had no qualms leaving me with him if she was packing up this quickly. I'd known all along that her niceness was an act, but it still stung to have your suspicions confirmed.

"Oh, and when you get the chance, ask him about Karen."

My face flushed. "Karen?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "That bastard. He's got no right to be pissy with me when he's been fucking her all along."

Rosie stepped away from her bags and pulled me into an unexpected, not to mention unwanted, hug. I tried to step away, but she was hanging on to me tighter. "Listen honey, I know things have been kind of shitty between us lately," she began, and I rolled my eyes. The last thing I needed to hear was one of these endearing speeches. "But if you need anything I swear... Glory, you're kind of like a little sister to me."

I grimaced at her words. _At least she didn't say daughter_, I told myself. _At least she didn't say daughter_. She released me and started carrying her bags out their room.

Steve emerged out of seemingly nowhere to help her carry them out to her crappy car. He must've been as happy to see her go as I was. It only took us a couple minutes to get everything to her car, and then she hugged me again. I gave Steve a disgusted look, and he smiled a smug grin back as if to say he was lucky she never liked him. "Love you, honey," she said and finally let go. I said a silent prayer it'd be the last time she'd ever call me honey.

She moved towards her car and opened the door to the driver's seat.

Steve took a step forward. "You want us to say something about this to Charlie or …?"

I could tell by the way he said it, he was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

She scrunched her nose at him and nodded. "Yeah, tell him to go fuck himself."

With that she got in the car and sped off.

We watched her go, and this time, somehow I knew it was for good.

As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Steve. "You know Dad got fired?"

He pulled out his damn cigarettes and lit up in an effort to dodge the question, but he didn't have to answer it. The look on his face told me he knew for sure.

A wave of blood rushed to my face. "You told me about Leroy," I said, brimming with frustration. "Why not this too?"

"I dunno," he said casually. "I would've later."

"Bullshit."

"Honest, I would've. It's just Rosie has no regard for—"

"For what, Steve?" I cut him off. "You tryin' to tell me this is another one of those things I'm too little to hear again?"

He nodded. "Yeah, pretty much that."

"Well, I'm _not_."

"Cool your jets for a second." He took a long drag of the cigarette and expelled it just as slowly. "Charlie wanted to tell you himself. Told him if he didn't do it by the end of next week, I would. Seemed fair enough to me."

I shook my head firmly. "No, it ain't fair. He should tell me right away, damn it!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't freak out like this, he'd think you're mature enough to hear it right away."

"God, Steve." I ran a hand through my hair and shot him a nasty look. "I'm only freaking out because you didn't tell me … or him … or I dunno. Anybody but fucking Rosie could've told me!"

I made a break for my room, but he caught my arm and pulled me back. "You seriously need to learn to watch your mouth, kid. You cuss more than some of my friends."

"Oh for Christ's sakes, I'm pissed at her. I can cuss if I want."

"Yeah, and I can kick your ass if I want, so watch your mouth."

"Fine." I sighed as loud as I possibly could, but he ignored me.

We stood out there long enough for him to smoke two cigarettes before either of us said a word to each other again. It was tempting to run back inside, but there was something I was dying to ask him. "Steve?"

He didn't answer me, so I tugged on his shirt sleeve and asked a bit louder. "Steve?"

"What?"

"You know anything about someone named Karen?"

He thought about it for a second and shook his head. "No, why?"

"Nothin'."

"It ain't nothin' if you just asked about," he grumbled. "Spill it."

I shrugged. "Rosie thinks Dad's sleeping with somebody named—"

"Rosie's certifiable," he interrupted me. "Don't listen to a single word she says."

"I know, but—"

"But nothin'. That's all there is to it."

I crossed my arms and lifted an eyebrow. "So you don't think it's possible that—"

"I don't give a flying fuck about who either of them sleep with if that answers your question, and neither should you."

"Jeez, Steve, I was just askin'." I rolled my eyes and leaned against the side of the house. "Since when do you get defensive about Dad?"

"It ain't defensive," he shot back. "I just don't see why you're puttin' any stock in what she says. Maybe it's true, maybe it's a bunch of bullshit. I don't know, and what does it matter? She's still gone…"

It mattered at lot. Dad was an asshole, and though I knew it was possible, I at least hoped he wouldn't be the kind of person to cheat on his wife. She was technically still married to him.

Steve stubbed out his cigarette and reached in his pocket for his keys. "I'm goin' to Soda's," he told me, nearing his car.

I thought that'd be the last I hear from him so I turned around to go inside, but before he left, he called out my name.

I sighed and propped a hand on my hip. "What?"

"You go anywhere, be home by eleven."

He got in his car and slammed the door before I could even think to complain eleven was too early, not to mention it was annoying he thought he could tell me when I needed to be home in the first place, especially when he'd probably be at Soda's all weekend anyway.

I glared at him as he drove off, but he probably didn't notice it. As soon as his car was out of sight, I went inside and found an outfit to wear tonight. It wasn't anything special, but the skirt came a little above my knees and the top didn't look too frumpy. Angela would probably call the outfit prudish, but it looked better than all of the other clothes I owned.

The phone rang before I could leave. I debated leaving without answering it, but I ran to pick it up on the last minute. "Hello?"

"Julia, thank god." It was Dad. "Rosie there? She ain't picked up all day."

My stomach churned. If I lied, he'd be pissed at me. If I told him now, who knows how he'd react… "Uh, not exactly," I said carefully.

"You givin' her trouble again? 'Cause I swear—"

"No, I'm fine," I broke in. "She's angry at you."

"Why?"

I chewed on my lip, wishing I'd have just left when I had the chance. "I dunno, you'd have to ask her."

"Julie Mae Randle, I always know when you're lyin' to me, and if you know what's best for you, you'll tell all or we'll be having one hell of a talk when I get home."

Something came over me, another one of those foolish blasts of confidence, and I snapped. "But I didn't do anything wrong," I spat at him. "I don't wanna be in the middle of your shit with her. Deal with it yourself."

He started yelling at me, things I couldn't even make out, so I hung up and sat down on the kitchen floor. This whole week had been awful, and he didn't need to yell at me, not when it was his relationship problems.

The phone rang again and again and again. He called five times before I finally picked up again. "Julia." I was surprised he didn't sound angry, more desperate than anything else, but it was still tempting to hang up on him right away. "Just listen to me for a second, baby. I mean, you're right. I shouldn't put you in the middle of it, and I'm sorry, but I'm all the way up in Kansas here, and I dunno what the hell's goin' on. Just tell me what you know about her. That's all I'm askin'…"

"I can't," I said, tears rushing to my eyes. "I … I don't even know what to say."

"Hey, don't cry. Just tell me where she went."

"I dunno where she went. She's just gone."

He sighed and fell silent for a long time. I held unto the receiver and didn't hang up. "She say anything to you?" he asked finally.

"Peter told her you got fired… and something about someone named Karen. I dunno, Dad. I wished she wouldn't have told me, but she just started yelling all sorts of shit and then she left."

I took a deep breath and braced myself for his reaction. He wouldn't be mad at me. He'd be mad at her, but that didn't matter. I could barely get ahold of myself and any anger from him would only make that worse.

"Don't … don't worry about any of that," he tried, but his voice was flattering. "I'll deal with it when I get back, alright?"

I couldn't bring myself to say anything for a couple seconds.

"You still there, Julia?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Shit… Listen, I'mma get a job, so don't you worry about any of that. Go hang out with your friends tonight, and promise me you won't worry."

"Okay," I promised him.

"Love you, honey, and tell your brother I love him too."

"Okay." I hung up before he could say anything else. I stood next to the phone for a moment, stunned he'd actually told me to tell Steve he loved him. That had to be a first. I guess he was embarrassed about what I knew and had to salvage it somehow. The worst part was Steve would never believe me if I told him.

Before I could think about it any longer, I shoved a house key in my pocket and took off for Angela's.

xxxx

Angela's Mom was screaming at her when I got there.

Curly answered the door and told me it might be a while before I got to talk to her. According to him the school had called about her numerous absences, and he was damn grateful they were calling about her and not him for a change.

I took a seat on the couch. Tim was watching something on TV. I tried to watch it too, but their mother's voice carried all the way from the kitchen. "Twenty-seven days, Angela and it ain't even Thanksgiving yet. Where the hell you been goin'?"

Angela was silent. She had two modes: silent treatment or loud as hell, and you never quite knew what you were gonna get.

I swore Angela was gonna die the way she stubbornly sat there through their mother's freak out, but then her mother noticed me and immediately shut up. "Oh, Jesus, Julia." He face grew redder by the minute and she motioned for me to join her and Angela in the kitchen. "I was just telling Angela she ain't goin' anywhere for the night, but I suppose you can keep her company."

She smiled at me. It was hard for me to believe this was the same woman who was hollering her lungs off earlier, and I wondered if she realized I'd skipped with Angela a few of those days, but regardless of what she knew, Angela's mom loved me. She thought I was the greatest influence and encouraged me to hang out with Angela more. Whenever I was around, she was super friendly, but sometimes her true colors would come out, and I could definitely see where Angela got half of her personality from.

"I have to go to work," she said, rounding up her keys and purse. "You girls have a good night now."

Earl couldn't bring in enough money on his own, so she currently worked part time at a bar. It had to be a lousy job for a mother of three, but it must've paid somewhat decent since Beth Mathews did the same thing. Angela's mom was pretty—she looked just how I imagined Angela would in twenty years—so she probably brought in decent tip money.

"Tim," I heard her say as she passed through the living room. "You make sure your sister stays here tonight." She gave Angela one heck of a look. From what I'd seen she liked to rely on Earl to discipline her own kids, but she had a nasty temper too, sometimes even scarier than their stepfather's.

He nodded once, giving Angela a look too. He'd probably leave an hour after his mother left, so it was mostly for show, and I was right. As soon as she was gone, he got up and approached us. Angela gave him a slight pout as if to say, "Are you really gonna make me stay here all night?"

He crossed his arms and smirked. "You know what? I think I _am_ gonna make you stay here all night."

She glared at him and elbowed me. I didn't know what she expected me to do, but I sure as hell didn't want to start an argument with Tim, so I elbowed her back. She turned to me, and I finally say what she was getting it, so I played along just to appease her. "Angela promised me she'd go to the movies with me tonight," I told him.

"The movies, huh?" He raised an eyebrow at Angela. "You expect me to buy that?"

"Julia can't lie," she told him. "It's impossible for her, so you better believe it."

He stared her down, and I thought for a second he might lay into her, but it was all for show. "Whatever you do, be back before she's home, 'cause I ain't covering for you tonight," he said and left to talk to Curly about something.

"So what are we doing?" I asked her, hoping my suggestion of going to the movies might be honored.

She just got up and hooked her arm in mine, leading me out the back door. "Don't worry," she said. "I promise it's legal."

* * *

I've had a reeeeeally busy weekend, but found myself some wifi to post this. :) I hope it was worth the wait and I hope the story hasn't gotten boring for anyone. Thanks for reviews. Sorry I haven't been able to reply, but do know I appreciate each and every one! Please review again!


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Thanks for reviews! Sorry I didn't get replies out to you all, but that's about to change. I have WiFi again! Everyone, get excited! I know I am. I can finally reply to your reviews without my cell phone acting all spastic, and I can FINALLY update without unnecessary hassles! :D

* * *

Technically Angela didn't lie when she said her plans were legal, but that didn't mean they were innocent.

She wanted to make James jealous she told me. I told her she should just break up with him if she wanted to fool around, but fooling around while they were still together was part of the grand plan. I didn't get it. As far as I could tell, James had been good to her, but she was determined to make him pay for something and dragged me all the way to The Dingo.

At least it wasn't Buck's, but The Dingo was still a pretty rough hang out; in other words, Steve would flip shit if he saw me here. Maybe he and his buddies didn't frequent here as often as Buck's, but that brought no comfort. There was still a strong change he could catch me here, a chance Angela didn't take seriously at all.

God, I wanted to slap her. If all she wanted to do was make James jealous, she didn't have to drag me along. "Angela, I think we should leave," I tried for about the hundredth time. "People our age probably shouldn't be here, you know?" And it was an honest concern. Maybe I was most petrified of what my brother would do if he caught me, but I'd heard a rumor somebody got shot here once, and that was enough to keep me away in itself.

She ignored me and sauntered up to a group of three guys who looked a little older than us. Maybe fourteen or fifteen, but I couldn't be sure. The only one I recognized was Ponyboy Curtis, and I rolled my eyes. Not this again.

I felt bad for Ponyboy. He stood back with his hands stuffed in his pockets, like he'd rather be anywhere else in the entire universe than standing next to Angela Shepard. She tugged on his shirt sleeve and told him he looked handsome. He gave her a weak smile in what looked like a forced effort to be polite, but when she hooked her arm into his, he took a few steps back. It didn't take two eyes to see he wasn't interested. He replied to everything she said in short, one word answers, and every chance he got, he inched away from her.

One of the other boys liked Angela though. His name was Byron or something, and when his scrawnier friend left the group to pursue other things, he made his like for Angela even more obvious. Every time Ponyboy killed the conversation, he butted in, like he was trying to impress Angela, and it worked. Eventually she gave up on Ponyboy and went at Bryon full force. I guess she didn't care who she hooked up with as long as she was making James jealous.

Of course she made sure he was here to see the entire show. A few tables over, there he was, sitting with his friends, a somewhat permanent scowl across his face. He sent her death glares every now and then, but he never once left his seat.

I sighed and took a seat at a table as far away from the mess as possible. Much to my shock, Pony followed me and absently sat down in the further seat from me at the table. He looked lost.

Steve said Johnny's death was real hard on him, and that Pony didn't know what to do with himself anymore, which I think was Steve's way of saying it was hard on everybody, but Steve didn't like to talk about that much. According to Steve Ponyboy was taking it the hardest, but I knew for a fact he was still shaken up about it himself. You couldn't touch the issue without him exploding.

"You're Steve's sister, right?"

I turned to Ponyboy, surprised he was talking to me or even recognized me. "Yeah … "

"I know Steve." He tapped his fingers against the table like he was nervous or something. "He's a buddy of mine."

I wondered what Steve would think if he heard this. Steve was always on about how annoying Ponyboy was, but apparently Pony liked him well enough to consider him a friend, or maybe he just didn't want to tell me how he really felt about my brother.

I shrugged. "He can be kind of a jerk though, huh?"

Pony smiled. "Yeah, sometimes I don't think he likes me all that well."

"Sometimes I don't think he likes _anybody_," I told him. "Well, except your brother. I dunno why, but he never seems all that pissed at Soda."

"Well, everybody loves Soda," Pony explained. "It actually gets kind of annoying being told how good-lookin' he is all the time. I mean, all the girls love him, an' all the guys wanna be his friend. Boy, you should hear it sometimes, but he's a good guy …"

"Yeah, he's nice." I remembered how he punched Larry and drove me away from Buck's and especially how he was able to stop Steve from completely lashing out at me the night I ran to their house. Anybody willing to do those things for their friend's little sister was probably a good person.

I blushed. Pony was sitting right here; he had seen me that night too, and I wondered if he remembered.

"So what brings you here?" If Soda had asked the same thing, I'd wonder if he was trying to make a comment about me being here, but Pony seemed only curious.

"Angela," I growled. One word, a simple name, was all I needed to answer that. I couldn't think of any other reason why I would be here. It was loud and dirty and all around just not somewhere I wanted to be.

"She's your friend, huh?"

I nodded. I was mighty pissed at her, but yeah, she was still my friend.

"This is gonna sound kinda weird, but do you mind if I, uh … um, ask you something about her?"

"No," I told him, my curiosity piqued. He wasn't trying to tell me he actually liked her now, was he?

"I think she likes me. I mean, _really_ likes me, but I dunno for sure."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Do you like her?"

"No." He shook his head furiously. "I mean, she's good-lookin' and all, but…" He ran a hand through his hair, truly struggling to find words.

"But she's kind of a bitch?" I guessed.

He nodded. "Wait, no, not that," he corrected himself. "Just…"

I smiled, realizing he was worried I'd be upset he said something mean about my best friend. "Hey, I won't care if you think my friend's a bitch. _I_ think she's a bitch."

Now if he'd called her a slut or something along those lines, I might get mad. I knew for a fact she was easy, but I didn't like to hear people say that. Bitch was alright though. I'd grown used to people calling her mean in one way or another since I was in grade school, and she was. She could be downright nasty sometimes.

"She _does_ like you," I told him, answering his original question. "She seems really into that Bryon guy right now though, so you're probably off the hook for now."

"Good." He looked relieved, and I didn't blame him. If I were a guy, the last girl I'd want to date was Angela.

"You want a coke or somethin'?" he asked me, getting up.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

He left, and I sighed, relieved I could rest assured his offer to buy me a coke was nothing more than politeness. If he was clueless Angela was into him, he certainly wouldn't be making passes at me, and that was a good thing. If Steve found him annoying now, imagine how intensified that'd become if Pony dated me.

Angela tugged on a lock of my hair and sat down, a contented grin across her lips.

"What?" I snapped at her. "What're you so happy about?"

Her grin widened. "Only a matter of time before Ponyboy realizes what he's been missing."

I glared at her. "He ain't ever gonna like you. He just told me so."

"He will," she said, so sure of herself.

"Then what the hell are doin' with Bryon?"

The disturbing look in her eye just grew bigger. "Angel, no …" I started up again. "That's … that's horrible, and it ain't gonna work."

"Oh, please. Bryon's dying to have a go with me. It'd be cruel not to let him."

I shook my head at her, stunned she found nothing wrong with her plan.

"See, Jule," she kept on. "This way we all get what we want. We all end up happy."

"No." I shot out of my seat. "Only you end up happy. That's all you ever care about is you. Why'd you even bring me here?"

She didn't answer me. She must've known anything else she said would outrage me, and I wondered why she cared about that now. Why didn't she just call me a bitch and get the fight over with? She'd be pulling any other girl's hair by now.

"Look, Jule," she said, but I was too irritated to even listen to her.

I turned to walk away and bumped straight into Pony, almost knocking the cokes all over me.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." He set the cokes down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Angela stood up. "I think I'll leave you two be." She patted my shoulder and winked at me as she walked away. Was that supposed to mean something? An okay to have Pony before she took her turn with him? An apology for being such a bitch?

I sat down and planted my forehead in my hands.

"You alright?" Pony asked.

"Yeah." I wasn't. I was furious, but he didn't need to hear about that.

I pulled my hands away from my face and forced a small smile. "Angela's just … frustrating."

He nodded like he understood.

As I took a sip of my coke, I wondered why Steve disliked him so much. He seemed nice to me.

xxxx

The rest of the evening went by real fast. I didn't speak another word to Angela, but Pony introduced me to this guy named Mark and a few other people he was friends with. We played a lot of pool, and for a while I could care less that Angela ditched me. In fact, I was glad she had, and I hoped she was jealous of the good time I was having with Ponyboy Curtis, even if I had no intentions of dating him.

Eventually she left with Bryon, and that was when I realized how late it had gotten. I asked Mark how late it was, and when he said one thirty, I panicked. "I better go," I said. "I'm way past curfew."

Everyone except Ponyboy looked at me as though I'd lost my mind, but scurried away anyway, without a single goodbye, and Pony followed me.

"Hey, wait up," he called after me once we'd gotten outside.

I stopped and he jogged to catch up to me. "You know, if your old man's gonna be mighty hacked about this, maybe you could stay at my place." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, Steve does it all the time. He's probably over right now anyway…"

I guess Steve must've talked our father up to be some kind of a monster, and well, for as often as Steve spent the night at their place, he probably was in the eyes of Pony. "Thanks, but my dad ain't home right now," I told him. "And Steve'd probably be more pissed if I went to your place."

Pony stared at me, confused. "So Steve wanted you home early?"

I nodded.

"Wow," he said.

I wondered why he was so surprised about it. "Believe it or not, he's _real_ bossy sometimes."

"Hey, I get that. I got a bossy brother too."

I didn't have to guess which brother he was referring too. It wouldn't be Soda. "Your brother'll probably be pissed about what time it is too…"

"Nah, I told him I was spendin' the night at Bryon's."

"Oh…"

"Listen, Julia, I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to do that," I told him.

"Actually I kinda do," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, if Steve knew I let you walk yourself home, he'd _kill_ me."

"Yeah, okay." I started walking, and he followed me.

He was right after all, and I hoped for the sake of both of us, Steve was still out doing whatever it was he intended to do tonight. I also hoped he'd have enough sense to know there was absolutely nothing between me and Pony, but considering how much Ponyboy annoyed him, there were no guarantees.

At least it might distract him that I was two and a half hours late.

xxxx

The light was on when we reached my house and for the first time ever, I almost hoped it was my father, but it wasn't. Steve's car was in the driveway.

"You should probably leave," I told Pony before we reached the front door. "I don't want him pissed at you for any of this."

"I'm used to it," Pony assured me.

Well, I'd tried to warn him. I took a few steps closer to the door, but before I could open it, it burst open.

Steve grabbed my arm and locked eyes on Ponyboy.

"I ran into her and thought you might appreciate somebody walking her home," Pony offered, but it didn't appease Steve in the slightest.

"Her friend ditched her," Pony added, as though it was supposed to help my cause, but just as I suspected, Steve asked if that friend's name was Angela.

Pony hesitated, and Steve tightened his grip on my arm. "That's what I thought."

Pony started to leave, but Steve stopped him. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Home," he said, even though I'd thought he said he was spending the night at his friends, but I wasn't about to point that out. Maybe he didn't want Steve to know that for some reason.

Steve shook his head. "By yourself? At this hour? Yeah, I don't think so. Darry would kill us both."

"I got a blade on me," Pony tried to explain, but Steve had already made up his mind.

He shoved me inside, giving me a look that told me we'd talk more about this later as he slammed the door.

I kicked the door out of frustration a few times, mumbling a few choice words to myself. It was my own fault I was late, but I couldn't help but be pissed at my brother too. He was always overreacting, about _everything_.

"Hey, Julia," I heard behind me.

I jumped. There was Evie on our couch. She smiled, and I could tell she was amused by my dramatic outburst.

"Hey, Evie," I greeted back.

She patted the couch cushion beside her.

"Have fun tonight?" she asked as I took a seat. "You were out pretty late."

"Yeah …" I leaned against the back of the couch and sighed. I did have fun, but all I could think about now was how irritated my brother was.

She put a hand on my knee. "Hey, don't worry about Steve," she told me. "I mean, I'll be honest, he ain't too happy with you, but I'll tell him he has to be nice."

I laughed at her. Maybe she had special powers with him sometimes, this time they probably wouldn't work. Even if he got over me coming home late, he'd demand to know about every last detail about what Pony and I were doing together.

"You probably should be out so late at your age though," she added with a sigh. "He worries about you a lot... Did you just forget what time it was or …?"

"Yeah," I said.

We sat in silence for a long time after that. She probably didn't know what to say to me anymore, and when Steve got home, he looked just as pissed as he had before.

"You should probably go home now that she's here," he told Evie.

I grimaced, putting the pieces together. He must've called his girlfriend because he was worried about _me_, and the thought made me sick to my stomach.

"Steve, I think we should all just go to bed," she said. "It's late."

Steve shook his head.

"How'm I gonna get home anyway? I got a ride here. Remember?"

I stared on in shock as he handed her his keys. "I trust you," he said. "You're a better driver than Soda anyway. Just bring it back tomorrow morning, okay?"

"No, Steve, let's just go to bed," she said a little firmer. "I'm tired, you're tired. Look at her. She's definitely tired."

Just as I suspected her voice of reason didn't matter this time. I sat there anxiously as they bickered about it, and she eventually left with his keys in her hands, which still stunned me. He must've really, really trusted his girlfriend to let her do that. Either that or he was so angry at me, it clouded all his judgment.

He stood near the doorway for a second, fists balled at his sides. When engine started up, I could tell he regretted his decision immediately by his facial expressions, but he made no effort to chase after her. He just started walking towards me.

* * *

Eeeek, that was kind of a mean cliffhanger, especially after a somewhat delayed update. Sorry. :(

I promise WILL update soon, unless for some odd reason you all boycott reviewing. That would probably make me sad and mopey, so please don't do that! :)


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own; S.E. Hinton does.

Big huge gigantic thanks to TaylorPaige24. This chapter was going to be the death of me. I had two fully written versions, wavered like no other, and she stopped that nonsense by encouraging me to go with this direction. Thanks for listening to my whining! I appreciate that.

This is the longest chapter yet at 5000 words and likely the longest of the entire fic. Brace yourselves, a lot happens here, but I felt like all of Charlie's appearances (or mentions, really) need to be grouped together for purposes of clarity.

Now, without further ado, let me put your out of your misery from the prior cliffhanger… and beg you not to hate Steve while I'm at it … :/

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"Steve, I can explain," I choked out, but I couldn't manage anything after that. No explanations that weren't outright lies came to me, and lying wouldn't help my cause. Not when he looked so hacked it was a wonder he wasn't throwing things across the room or hollering loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"No need." He walked the last of his steps and halted in front of me, cross-armed. "Pony already told me everything."

I swallowed and shifted my eyes to the floor, feeling somewhat betrayed, but yet, what could Pony do? When Steve wanted to know something, he never gave up easy, and the poor kid was probably at the disposal of whatever Steve decided to tell his brothers. Somehow I had a feeling Darry wouldn't like that Mark guy too well. Maybe Pony was doing things he shouldn't be doing in the first place when he ran into me, but those guys seemed nice, and honest, we just played pool and talked. They drank some, but Pony and I stayed sober. I wouldn't dare drink again after the party with Angela months ago, and Pony claimed he didn't like the taste. Whether that was truth or fear his brother would skin him, I didn't know, but neither of us drank anything other than soda.

"Steve…" I looked up, realizing I had to talk to him at some point. Our eyes met. He towered over me, and my tongue locked up again.

"You're way in over your head, kid." He crouched down until we were at eye level and stared directly at me, which somehow made him scarier than when he was standing. I could hardly look at him without shaking that gaze was so painful.

"I know where you went, and now wanna know why." I looked away and he titled my head back to him. "Tell me _why_ you think it's a fantastic idea to hang out with people damn near my age and stay out 'til two in the fucking morning."

To be fair, it was one thirty, not two, but arguing with him was out of the question. I had enough sense not to do that, but the only other way I could think to respond involved Angela's name. He already knew this was largely Angela's fault, but I knew from experience simply mentioning her name could set him off once he got going.

In my anxiousness, I fabricated a stupid lie. "I, um, I didn't wanna walk home alone, so that's why I was late. I mean—"

"That's not want Pony told me," he cut me off. "You wanna lie to me now? You don't think you've dug yourself a big enough hole yet?"

I curled my bottom lip under my teeth and shook my head.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. Now how 'bout you tell me what I asked you instead of feeding me bullshit?"

_Angela, Angela, it was all Angela, _my brain screamed. I hesitated. "I just wanted to have fun tonight, and Angela invited me to go..."

He raised an eyebrow. "And these outings with her always end up realll well for you, don't they?"

"Not always bad," I mumbled, but he ignored it.

"I don't get it." He shot up, towering over me once again. "I. Don't. Fucking. Get it. You'd think after that incident a couple months ago, you'd learn, but one fuck up ain't good enough, huh? Didn't you already learn the hard way?"

I hadn't cried up until this point, but just bringing that up made me wanna bawl. I gritted my teeth and shook my head, reminding myself he had a tendency to do this, to exaggerate something I did in an effort to scare the crap out of me.

At this point, I didn't know what scared me the most; his voice, his stare, the pacing, they all made me feel an inch tall.

He stopped in front of me. "You know what kind of guys hang around The Dingo? Better yet, you know what kind of guys hang around Angela?"

I shielded my eyes in my hands.

He pulled them away and held them at my sides. "Guys like that Larry son of bitch," he said sharply. "And I don't get that. Why you'd put yourself in a situation like that again."

"Well, not all guys there were like him," I yelled back in a stupid impulse not to cry. "Ponyboy ain't like him. You can hate him all you want Steve, but he's not a sick person."

"For the last fucking time, I don't hate him. I _don't_." He raised his voice up another notch and finally released my hands. "Look, I'm glad you hung out with him instead of someone else. I might even go as far as saying I'd rather you hung out with him instead of Angela, and I still don't like it so don't you dare go gettin' any ideas, but Christ … Just 'cause he's nice don't mean another person ain't gonna be an asshole."

I hated it when he made sense. I hated it so much, because there was nothing to do but sit there and listen to him tell you how he was right and you were wrong. "Even if you didn't go to The Dingo, what the hell makes you think you can stay out until two when I damn well told you eleven?"

_Because you're my brother and can't make me curfews_, I thought furiously. Not a valid answer, but tempting to hurl at him. "I just lost track of time," I tried, even though I knew the excuse would work about as well for me as it did Ponyboy when it happened to him. He told me that story as we were walking home. Not sure why. It was hardly comforting when it ended in Darry punching him. He didn't say anything after that, but I knew from Steve he ran away, which was something I'd never consider.

"_I just lost track of time_," he mocked. "Jesus, did you think I would too?"

I shrugged. To be honest, yes. I didn't expect him to come home early enough to see if I made curfew, but I never intended to stay out as late as I did either.

"Thought you'd be here when I got home at midnight," he continued. "Hell, you could've fucked around another hour if you wanted, but no, one hour wasn't—"

The phone rang and interrupted his thought. He let it ring twice before jumping to answer it.

"Don't move," he barked at me with a pointed finger.

He sprinted towards the kitchen and glared at me as he picked up the receiver to be sure I hadn't budged.

"No, of course I found her. Said I would, and I did, damn it."

I wondered who he was talking to. I had a sneaking suspicion it could be Dad, but it was too late for him to call, wasn't it?

"I already I told ya _I_ told her eleven," Steve kept on with the same intensity. "And I ain't the one who told her to go have fun. That was you, genius, so it's probably your own goddamned fault she stayed out so late."

My stomach dropped, realizing it was indeed Dad, which could only mean Steve had told him at one point I was missing.

"Charlie, that's ridiculous." Steve pressed a hand to his forehead, almost shaking from his anger. "What the hell're you gonna do from all the way up there? Holler at her through the phone? Threaten her for when you get home? Give me a fucking break. I said I'd take care of it, and I _will_."

I leaned forward in hopes I might be able to hear what Dad said, but it sounded like muffled screaming. That was it. I focused real hard to the point I paid little attention to what my brother said, and Dad's end never turned into anything more. He was probably waking up all his relatives the way he carried on. They bickered for maybe a minute, and eventually it made my head sick to listen to. I reclined on the couch and started tuning it out, but when Steve said "Yeah" a few times, it caught my attention. It sounded like things had calmed. They reached some kind of an understanding apparently, and I kicked myself for missing it.

"Yeah, alright, fine." There was a heavy twang of annoyance in his tone, but he sounded somewhat resigned. "But you better not lay a hand on her when you get home then."

He slammed the phone back it its place on the wall and lingered near it for a second.

I watched him nervously. He ran a hand through his hair, and though I couldn't put my finger on it, he almost looked nervous, but it brought no comfort. He pounded a fist against the wall and sighed loudly.

A moment later he approached me again, and I couldn't help but shake my head at him. "Why would you tell him anything?"

I should be worried about so many other things, but I felt so let down, I could hardly stand it.

"I shouldn't have to explain myself to you."

He told him. He _actually _told him, and I focused on that rage to keep myself from crying.

"God, I can't believe you. The fucking nerve to just… " He stopped, and I clammed up, wishing I hadn't said a word.

I finally put the pieces together, what they'd talked about on the phone, and realized, if my suspicions were right, Steve had concurrently done me a favor while taking himself down a giant notch in my book.

"Steve, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," I started, but it was too late.

"You shouldn't have done a lot of things tonight." He came at me fast and grabbed my arm. "Just be grateful I'm doing this now instead of letting him later."

What _could_ I be grateful for... I tried to jerk away as he yanked me up in one hand and nailed me with the other. The slap landed on the back of my leg and echoed throughout the room. I gasped and shook from the shock.

Before I knew it, he pinned me down effortlessly and his aim improved. I struggled something fierce, but it was no use; Steve always finished what he started.

xxxx

"Can I come in?" Steve knocked on my door again, and for the umpteenth time, I shined him on.

At first, there was anger. He'd call me a selfish little shit or some other insult and storm away; then, he began to ask nicely. Eventually Steve gave up asking—nice or not—and managed to pick the lock open. Not sure how, but of all the times my brother had to go and be genius level smart, I appreciated this the least. Maybe he had a valid reason to punish me, but it felt hypocritical. One, he wasn't my parent. Two, he almost always flipped out on Dad for doing the very same thing. Three, he could've just lied to Dad instead keeping his word. Four, he _wasn't _my parent.

No amount of logic could appease me. He only hit me maybe ten times in all, but it was the principle of it. My father treated me like I was a little kid, and apparently my brother agreed with him on that.

"Still hate me, huh?"

"You bet." He should at least have enough decency to leave me alone.

He sat down on the bed and nudged my shoulder. "Jesus, it's been an hour. Exactly how long you plan to stay pissed at me?"

"Forever." I pulled myself up so I could glare at him and crossed my arms over my knees. "Please, can you just leave me alone?"

My voice wavered from the frustration; he paid no heed. "What can I say, I live to irritate you."

He looked exhausted, and I wiped a tear off my cheek. I sighed and glanced away. I made it all night without breaking down, at least since talking to Dad about Rosie, and didn't intend to break it now.

When I dared look at Steve again, he noticed the upset and held his arms out to me. I shook my head, more tears falling despite my efforts.

He gave me a pointed look as if to ask me who I was fooling by trying to act tough—certainly not him, only myself. It took a lot of strength to move, but once I did, my breath hitched, and the dam broke. I collapsed against his shoulder. "Why couldn't you have just lied to him?" I asked miserably.

"I dunno." He tensed up and tightened his arms around me. "Honest? Figured you wouldn't take me seriously otherwise and maybe pull somethin' like that again."

"Nuh-uh…" I could hardly talk between the tears.

"Yeah huh, and how'm I supposed to know? You been doin' lots of shit I never thought you would lately."

I sighed. "Not that bad."

"Smoking grass with Angela a few nights ago?" he questioned. "How's that _not that bad_?'

Shit, I forgot about that, but now that he mentioned it, I remembered him claiming he might tell Dad about it. I rubbed my eyes. "Did you…?"

"Nope," he broke in. "Didn't tell him, and I won't."

"How'm I supposed to trust you after you told him what I did tonight?" Maybe it was mean to ask—I should just be grateful for the promise—but unrelenting resentment got the best of me.

"God, lay off it, Jule," he said, raising his voice for the first time since coming in my room. "Ain't my fault he called, alright?"

"You still didn't have to tell him."

"Just listen to me for a second, will ya?" he growled. "Before I even said a fucking word, he was jumpin' down my throat for losing you, like it was my fault. Said I must be too irresponsible to take care of you or some bullshit like that, and I lost it. It slipped out in the argument, okay?"

"I … I didn't know."

"You honestly think I'd do it on purpose?"

I didn't know for sure, but he sounded so flustered, it had to be the truth.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. His admission melted away most of the lingering anger.

"I wouldn't," he added. "Hell, if it makes you feel better, I won't even threaten to anymore, okay?"

Lots of times he promised me bullshit, but this didn't feel like one of them. I nodded. It did make me feel better; it made me feel a lot better to know it wasn't on purpose.

xxxx

_Saturday, November 19__th__, 1966_

Maybe it was what happened last night, but Dad made it back a little before nightfall.

Leroy trailed in behind him and simply stood in the doorway when Dad approached me with his usual angry scowl. Leroy looked shocked by the display to say the least, and I wondered where he'd been when Dad was screaming on the phone last night.

"So I heard some things happened while I was gone," Dad said, eyes ablaze. He wasn't quite yelling, and I could only imagine that was because his brother was in the room.

"Um, yeah," I started.

"What do you mean um yeah? You're pullin' this shit at twelve? Where the hell do you think that puts us when you're a real teenager?"

"Charlie." Steve eyed him from across the room. He stayed home today, even when Soda called him, and I appreciated that, now more than ever.

"For Christ's sake, I can have a word or two with her if I want."

Steve sprung up and stepped in front of me. "Just 'cause you wanna put on a big show for your brother and pretend you're in charge around here don't mean you get to blow off what you said."

Dad's face grew at least two more shades of red. "I never agreed not to talk to her," he spat at Steve, struggling not to explode completely. "And I shouldn't have to, damn it. I'm her father, and in case your forgot, I'm yours too, so you better watch the way you talk to me."

I held my breath as I watched on, knowing Steve was nowhere near done. "Really, Charlie? 'Cause I think you'd better watch the way you talk to me if you expect me to pay _your_ bills again next month."

Dad grabbed him by his shirt collar, but Steve yanked himself out of the grip immediately. "And I don't think you got a stake to fucking kick me out if I paid the mortgage."

I gasped, wondering why Steve would possibly do that. He hated our father, but tension between him and Dad told me this wasn't a lie.

"So don't you even think about it, Charles," Steve added, and that got to Dad.

He charged past him. I hugged Steve, worried he was coming towards me, but he stormed past us both and hurled his fist into the wall so hard it cracked. He hurled it once more and stopped, noticing the giant dent. He shook his fist to alleviate the pain.

I saw blood on his knuckles and cringed, squeezing Steve tighter.

Steve pried my arms off him and ushered me towards the door without a word. Dad didn't even bother asking where we were going.

As we shuffled past Leroy, I noticed he was near tears. Steve didn't notice or simply didn't care, but I lingered by the door, thinking of something I could say to him. Steve grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. "What about Leroy?" I asked as soon as the door was shut.

"What about him?"

"We can't just leave him alone with him when Dad's like that."

"Oh, yes, we can."

Steve pulled on my arm, but dug my feet into our lawn.

"Don't worry about him."

"Steve, this is mean…"

"C'mon."

"No," I refused, truly worried about our uncle. Maybe I didn't want him to live here, but this was cruel.

"Come _on_," he repeated.

"_No_."

He sighed and picked me up.

"Steve!" I whined, but he didn't set me down until we reached his car.

He opened the passenger side of us car and pushed me in. "Screw Leroy," he said. "He chose to come here, so now he can see what it's gonna be like."

He slammed the door on me and proceeded to circle his car, examining everything. He even opened the hood and looked around in there for a few seconds, and I rolled my eyes.

"I thought you said Evie was a better driver than Soda," I said when he finally got in.

"Yeah, she is, but you still can't be too careful when a woman drives."

I slapped his arm and frowned at him.

He smirked and started the engine.

I'll bet somewhere out there in the universe, there were women who could drive better than Steve—maybe if I was lucky, I'd be one someday—but one thing was for sure, he'd never admit anybody, no less a girl, was better than him at anything.

xxxx

The entire way to the Curtis's, he reminded me this was a one-time deal and only because he didn't trust Charlie around me. He must've said it fifty times before we got there.

Steve walked us both in without knocking. It seemed rude to me, but I guess he did this all the time.

"Hey," Pony greeted us both, but looked especially surprised to see me.

The look said he was relieved I was still alive. Steve must've yelled at him good last night.

Soda stepped in the room and shot Steve a puzzled look. "Thought you said I wouldn't see ya today." He walked up to us and gave Steve's arm a light punch. "Changed your mind, huh?"

I didn't understand boys or how a punch could be friendly, but apparently it was, because Steve returned the gesture. "Charlie got home early." He looked at me and let out an annoyed sigh. "Why _she's_ here too."

"Hey, that's alright. What with her and Pony being such good friends now." He winked at Steve, which told me he knew his comment would annoy Steve more than life itself.

It did. Steve looked like he wanted to punch Soda and not in the friendly kind of way either.

Pony kept his nose in the book he was reading, like he'd rather die than listen to this. If I had a book, I'd be doing the same thing.

Thankfully it didn't take long before Soda and Steve got to talking about something else that involved a mutual friend of theirs, and a moment later, they'd decided they were leaving. As they neared the door, Steve sent Pony one hell of a glare. "Remember everything we talked about last night."

Pony looked up from his book briefly.

Soda chuckled. "Relax, Steve-o." He clapped a hand against Steve's back and nodded his head to Pony. "See, my baby brother right there. He's a gentleman, just like yours truly."

Steve elbowed him. "If he's anything like you, I should be more worried. Remember Elaine? Correct me if I'm wrong but—"

"Elaine don't count, man." Soda scowled, as if truly wounded Steve questioned his gentlemanliness. "She was crazy."

Steve smirked as they walked out the door. "Yeah, and so were you…"

Pony set his book down after he heard the door shut, but it took him a minute to actually say something to me.

"Steve wasn't too pissed at you, was he?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"Nah," I said, not interested in telling him about anything that happened. No one would ever know about that if I could help it.

"Good." He stood up and fiddled with a pack of cigarettes. "Honest, I thought he was gonna kill ya the way he was yelling at me."

"Well, he was pretty hacked," I corrected myself. "But he's like that, you know, nasty temper."

"Believe me, I know." Pony's eyes widened for a second to emphasize his words, and it only made me more curious about what Steve had told him last night.

I didn't ask though; that'd make Pony uncomfortable.

"You smoke?" He held a cigarette out to me.

"Yeah," I lied and took it from him.

I said a silent prayer Steve stayed gone long enough he wouldn't see it. He probably wouldn't care about the smoking; more that Pony gave me the cigarette.

"C'mon." Pony motioned for me to follow him to the backyard. "Darry'd kill me for smoking in the house."

I followed him and stepped outside after him. "Yeah, your brother sounds kinda scary."

He shrugged. "Not as scary as he looks. It's those muscles, you know. They scare dogs and small children."

I laughed. Steve on the other hand was kind of lanky. He was real strong and muscled, sure, but you wouldn't guess what he was capable of on first glance. Needless to say, he lost when he took on Darry, but anybody would. "Speaking of your brother, he wasn't pissed, was he?"

"A little," Pony sighed. "Not much though. Just questioned what was I really doing is all, but he always does that. Honest, your brother yelled at me more."

Somehow I didn't find that hard to believe. I blushed; that was all Steve's doing, but I still felt responsible. "Listen, I'm real sorry about that. I wish he wasn't such a jerk to you sometimes. You don't deserve that."

"Hey, he's alright." Pony lit up his cigarette, but forgot to light the one still between my fingers. "He'd save my ass in a fight."

I wondered why guys had to judge everything by their fights, but Pony sounded like he meant it. We fell silent for a while, and Pony never realized he forgot to light my cigarette. "Hey, how old are ya?" he asked.

I thought about lying for a second, because twelve sounded so young, but he knew Steve well enough I couldn't get away with that.

"Sorry," he said, just as I was about to reply. "I was just kind of wondering, 'cause I never see you around school, and well, Steve never talks about you much."

"Nah, it's fine," I told him. "I'm twelve."

"_Twelve_?"

He looked stunned, and I wanted to crawl under my own skin.

"Shit, thought you'd be at least my age. I mean, you look young, but so did my buddy Johnny, and you seem tons more mature than Angela."

That surprised me. Angela seemed way older than thirteen to me, but I guess dating older boys wasn't a mark of maturity with Pony, and it made me blush to think he actually thought I was more mature.

"Thanks," I managed but didn't know what else to say.

"Uh, here's your cigarette back," I added to change the subject.

He took it from me and lit it for himself. Maybe he thought I was too young to smoke it now, or maybe his pack was growing empty and he felt he needed it back. Steve never gave up cigarettes easy after all.

"Probably shouldn't'a introduced you to Mark and them…" He shook his head, still looking awfully embarrassed. "No wonder Steve was pissed."

I shrugged, even though I understood his embarrassment. They seemed nice, but not nice enough every twelve year old girl should meet them.

Glory, I hated being twelve. Last summer I hated Angela for what she was doing. She did her face up and played with boys while I secretly wished she'd still play dolls with me. Now, I was over dolls and finally cared about my appearance to make sure my hair brushed out of a tangled mess every morning, but I still didn't know what to do. The logical order of things demanded I get into boys. Twelve or not, that was what came next, right?

I sighed and shook my head. What went in the middle? I'd give anything to know…

xxxx

The rest of the evening went alright. I worried Pony would treat me differently now that he knew I was young, but he was still nice. Aside from saying he wished he hadn't introduced me to his friends, he said nothing about last night. We baked three cakes to entertain ourselves. Apparently they had to make a lot at a time because, as Pony told me, whenever Two-Bit came over he ate one by himself.

When Steve and Soda got back, Steve unsurprisingly decided it was time for me to go. It was midnight by that time anyway.

All the way hope I thought about Dad and Leroy, hoping Dad was reasonable, but knowing him, that was unlikely. In fact, he was nowhere to be found when we got home.

I called his name out a few times to be sure; no response.

Leroy stared at the TV, which had gone to complete static. Steve turned it off and stepped towards our uncle. "You know where he went?"

Leroy flinched at his words.

"That supposed to be a yes or a no?" he demanded.

"Steve, be nice."

He glared at me, and I glared back.

Steve ignored me and turned back to Leroy. "You know _anything_?"

"He just left," Leroy spoke finally. "Around ten or so. Said he'd be right back, and he wasn't."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You look for him or anything?"

Leroy slunk into the couch cushions, looking mighty intimidated by Steve. "Kinda," he said. "Just around the neighborhood, but I dunno Tulsa that well, and I thought about calling the cops, but I dunno. I got scared to."

"Hey, he does this a lot," I told Leroy, trying to sound assuring. "He'll probably be back before long." I glared at my brother again. "Won't he, Steve?"

"Fuck it." Steve shook his head and stormed off to his room.

"Steve, wait," I called after him. "God, you're such an asshole!"

"He hates me, doesn't he?" Leroy asked.

"He hates everybody," I said with a heavy sigh. "It ain't your fault though. Charlie probably went to a bar or something."

Leroy nodded, like he was deep in thought. "He was acting funny today…"

"That's probably my fault," I said, thinking about last night's phone call.

"Yeah, he said you were missing last night, but I dunno. He seemed real mad about Rosie."

_Rosie_. Now that he mentioned her, it made more sense. Dad would be upset he left her, and I was just the icing on the cake. "You know about her?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, he told me a thing or two."

I rubbed my forehead and thought about telling him he should be glad she was gone, but I didn't need to bring my personal dislike for her into the matter. "I'm goin' to bed," I told him. "Look, Charlie'll be back soon. He's just getting drunk or something."

Leroy gave me an uneasy glance. "He do this a lot?"

And that's when his cluelessness bothered me almost as much as it did Steve. "You have no idea."

"He will be back though, right?"

He sounded like a little kid, even though he was older than me. I fought with myself not to snap at him. He just lost his mom, and whether or not she was a nice person, I should at least be understanding of that more than most people.

"Yeah, he will," I promised him, certain my Dad's disappearance was just to drink his heart out again without the presence of others or something.

It wasn't until much later I learned he'd been arrested.

* * *

And another cliffhanger… A little more Ponyboy makes up for it though? Riiiight? I'm not a completely heartless fanfiction author here, am I? ;P

Please don't forget to review! The surge in reviews was amazing and exactly the confidence boost I needed, so thank you times a million to everyone who reviewed—anon and members! You guys are kickass if I do say so myself.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Well, I'm relieved you tolerated the last chapter so well… Thank you for not hating me. Many, many thanks also for your encouraging words! They were greatly appreciated. Here's the next installment. ;)

* * *

_Monday, November 21__st__, 1966 _

It was Angela who told me what happened.

Dad came home late Sunday night, said nothing, and went straight to bed. I tried to chase after him, but much to my annoyance, Steve pulled me back and told me to leave him alone. He was still worried Dad would lash out at me or something because he made me promise at least three times not to bother Dad about anything that had happened with Rosie. He said if I had any questions about anything, I should just ask him, so I did. I asked him where Dad had gone, and his answer? He didn't know.

But Angela told me everything at school this morning. She informed me Dad'd gotten in a drunken bar fight with his best friend. He punched the lights out of Peter and spent the night in jail sobering up. According to her, it was lucky they were such good friends and Peter demanded no charges be pressed. I wondered how the hell she knew all this, and she had answers for that too; Earl was at that bar when it happened, and she overhead him give her mother a play by play of the night's events. It was beyond me why Earl should care, but it was a good thing he did, or I might've never known what really happened.

All day I couldn't stand thinking about it. At first, I denied it. Angela lied all the time, so this could easily be another rumor, but she wouldn't lie to me. Maybe other people, but not me, and it _did_ make sense. It wasn't hard to put the puzzle pieces together. Clearly Dad was shaken up about Rosie, Peter had told Rosie about him losing his job, so Dad blamed Peter for outing his secret. Easy enough to believe. It just stung to think Dad would fight somebody over something one hundred percent his fault, but if he drank enough, it didn't matter. If he drank enough, anything stupid became a wonderful idea. In this case, punching Peter solved all his problems.

Later, he might feel guilty about it, but he never stopped. He'd ruin everything before he stopped drinking. It was only a matter of time, but oddly that wasn't what irritated me the most. Dad had been like this as long as I could remember, but Steve probably knew what happened the entire time, and just like always insisted on lying to me.

I trusted him more than anybody, but I couldn't trust him to tell me the truth. I dwelled on that all afternoon, and by the time he picked me up from school, the anger was near explosion.

I gave him a nasty look as I got in the car. He picked up on my attitude right away.

"What's your problem?" he asked as we drove away.

I gave him the silent treatment in return. Childish, sure, but if he wanted to keep me in the dark, I could keep him in the dark for five minutes.

"Julia."

I glared at him and kept my trap shut.

"I see what you're doing," he said with a smirk. "Silent treatment, huh? Go right ahead and see how much it hurts me."

And he ignored me. No sighs, no scowls, no nothing. He just drove me home and let me stay quiet without getting hacked about it. Glory, I hated him sometimes. He always found a way to make me lose, even if that meant not getting angry on purpose.

When we got home, I headed straight for my room, and that's when his hand caught my shoulder and pulled me back. "Alright, nothin' good ever comes of this, so why don't you just tell me now?"

I frowned, but it probably looked more like a pout in my current state. "You knew about Dad, didn't you?" It came out snappier than I intended, but the urge to get under his skin was strong, and he must've known it, too, because he was extra cautious to keep his cool.

"Knew what about Charlie?" He scratched his chin and shrugged. "Jeez, kid, he's pulled a lot of crap in his lifetime. What stunt are we talkin' about here?"

"The most recent." I balled both my fists at my sides. "You fucking knew he got in a fight with Peter King and spent the night in jail, fucking didn't you?"

The F word still felt wrong on my tongue, and the way I used it didn't sound right, but it got a slight reaction out of him, which I guess was what I was hoping for. "That's it." He dragged me all the way into my room so fast and sat me down on my bed. "First of all, watch your mouth. Second of all—"

"You never watch yours," I stopped him before he could reach his second point.

"An' I don't have to," he snapped back. "I ain't a twelve year old girl last I checked. Girls don't cuss like that. Even Evie don't cuss like that, and let me tell you, she's got quite a mouth on her."

The way he said girl grated on me. Being female or male should have nothing to do with it, and how should I know how girls were supposed to act in the first place? My only role model was Rosie, and I never wanted to be like her.

"You stick with shit and damn and leave the big words for the guys, okay?" he said, crossing his arms. "Words like that are crude, and you don't wanna look crude now, do you?"

"I don't fucking care, and you're a fucking asshole."

"And you're a little girl with a potty mouth," he said. I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh at me, and that just irritated me more.

"That's real attractive, Jule," he went on. "I'm sure all the boys will jump to date you when you're of age."

"Shut up."

A small grin crept across his lips—he knew he was getting to me now—and he sat down next to me. "So about Charlie…" He carded a hand through his hair and sighed. "Who told you that anyway?"

"Angela."

"Well, you shouldn't take her word worth shit." Now that Angela's name was in the conversation, he sounded cross. "Need I remind you what happened this weekend? Think she's a reliable source of information?"

"It's true though."

"You don't know that."

"I do too, and you're lyin' to me again."

"It ain't lyin' if I choose not to tell you something."

"So you _did_ know," I said, proud of catching his slip up in words. I never did that. He always did that to me.

"Fine, you caught me," he resigned, holding his hands in the air. "I did know, and maybe I shoulda told you, but just listen to me for a sec before you start losing all your marbles again."

"Why should I? You always lie to me or 'choose not to tell me something' as you prefer to call it." I realized I sounded like a brat right now, but I needed to say it anyway, to point it out to him so he knew I wasn't okay with it.

"God, you know, you sound just like Ponyboy Curtis sometimes." He clenched a fist and unclenched it in his frustration. "Always why this? Why that? Why, why, why? Can't you just take something as is for once?"

"No," I said, offended he'd just compared me to "the single most annoying person on the planet" in his own words. If anybody else had told me that, I'd take it as a compliment, but from him it was an insult. Being his little sister, I was supposed to be annoying, but his words stung.

"Look, I didn't tell you, 'cause I don't want you worrying about shit you don't need to worry about," he started up again, but it didn't matter. I'd worry anyway; how could he not see that?

I shook my head firmly.

"Twelve year olds shouldn't have to worry about their dads going to jail."

"What else am I supposed to think when he's gone then? That he died?"

"It ain't ideal, but we do the best we can," he kept on stubbornly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everything," he told me. "Shit, I don't like chewing you out either, but I do it anyway. I do what I have to do, alright?"

"Sure seems like you do," I muttered, staring at my messy floor. There were clothes everywhere. Everything in this house had spiraled into complete shit over the past couple days.

I kicked the shirt beneath my feet across the room and moved my foot to a skirt a couple inches away.

"I don't." The weight of his hand on my shoulder felt heavy.

I looked up. He didn't say anything more, but from the look on his face I wouldn't dare dispute him a second time. It wasn't that he looked angry; no, he actually meant what he said, and I didn't know how to handle that. It was just that his bossiness was relentless sometimes. I couldn't help being whiney when it felt like everything I did warranted some snide remark from him.

"I'm goin' to Soda's." He got up and neared my door. "Call their number if Charlie ain't home by ten, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed and watched him go.

I sighed and spread out on my bed, staring up at the ugly ceiling. But he _did_ care about me, I mused; no matter how stubborn I felt, I had to accept that.

After a moment of laziness, I got up and found Leroy. He was sleeping on the couch and had been all day. Dad hadn't taken the time to enroll him in our school system yet, and I wondered if and when he ever would at the rate he was going.

"Leroy," I said his name in an effort to wake him up.

"Leroy," I repeated a bit louder. "It's almost suppertime."

He finally pulled himself up and stared at me with sad eyes. A wave of annoyance rushed through me, but I suppressed it and smiled. "You wanna play a game or somethin'? We got checkers in the hall closet."

"I'll probably beat you, but okay."

I looked at him funny, instantly offput by his confidence, but maybe that was just how all Randle men were. Dad was. Steve definitely was, so I guess he should be too.

I got the game and set it up for us on the coffee table.

He was red, I was black, and it didn't take long before there were twice as many red pieces on the board as black.

"Wow, you're damn good," I said.

"Yeah, I'm pretty _dang _good," he replied. I guess he didn't like swearing. He'd have to get over that if he intended to survive living here.

"Yeah, I'll say."

"Well, I used to play against myself when I got real bored," he said. "That's how you build strategy."

I made my next move, and he double jumped me. "So you miss your friends back home?" I asked. Maybe it was asking too much, but if he lived with us now, I should at least know a thing or two about him.

"Nah, it was just me and Mama." His voice was so small, I could hardly hear him. I leaned forward and strained to listen.

"She taught me all the subjects at home," he explained. "Said school was why my brother and sister ended up the way they did. She didn't let me outa the house much. My best friend was my dog Ollie. He was the best, but he died last year chasing a squirrel. Got run over by the neighbor's car."

"I'm sorry to hear it." I hoped I sounded genuine. His story sounded awful. Not letting him out of the house? What kind of a mother was she?

He didn't say anything for a while. He beat me within the minute and reset up the game. "Wanna play again?" he asked.

I nodded. I had to beat him once before the evening got out.

This round, we seemed more an even match.

"Hey, Julia," he piped up, holding the piece he was about to move in his hand. "You know when Charlie's gonna be home?"

"Nope," I said. "He kinda just comes and goes as he pleases. That's his thing, I guess." I felt guilty telling him that for some reason. It was the truth, but the expression on his face almost killed me.

He looked mighty uncomfortable. "Mama said he made a lot of bad choices."

"She did?" I lifted an eyebrow, fishing for whatever more information he was willing to cough up.

"Sure did," he confirmed. "I thought it was kind of dumb I never got to meet him or my sister. Charlie's been real nice to me now that I met him. He must've learned something from his bad choices, 'cause I really like him."

I almost laughed at him. He had no idea what he was talking about where my dad was concerned. Don't get me wrong, I still loved my father, but he hadn't learned a thing from any choice choices he'd made recently.

"I dunno where my sister is. I saw some pictures of her, but Mama never talked about her much." He finally set the piece back on the board and folded his hands in his lap. "You know her? Y'all have the same name after all."

"Nope." I guess he had it worse than me when it came to being lied to if he still didn't know she was dead, but now that he brought her up, I wondered if that was why Dad had brought him here. Maybe he still mourned his big sister so much, he wanted to know his little brother better, but he was gonna ruin this kid.

This kid was weird, and I didn't mean that mean. I meant it that I felt sorry for him. If Dad enrolled him in school, he'd get teased severely because of how weird he was. His only friend was a dog. Glory, that was sad. At least I could say I always had Angela; even if she was a shitty friend sometimes, she was at least human.

We played four more rounds of checkers before we made supper, which consisted of only rice since that was all there was in the pantry. Dad came home around seven. He hugged us both and said he was going to bed because he had a headache. He retreated to his room, and once the door was shut, he didn't come out.

As the night passed, Leroy grew sadder. I tried to cheer him up, but when all my attempts failed, I gave up and went to bed myself. As I brushed my teeth and put on my nightgown, I wondered if I should've offered him Steve's bed to sleep in. Steve'd probably stay the whole night at the Curtis's anyway, but once my head was on the pillow, sleep took over every thought in my brain.

xxxx

_Tuesday, November 22__nd__, 1966_

Angela was mad about something, so mad she wasn't talking to anybody. Whenever she got like this, the culprit was usually Tim, so I wondered if she'd gotten busted for whatever she did this weekend too.

Rachel asked her what's wrong at least a million times before school started, and now that school was in session, she made a point of finding her between each class. "Just leave her alone." I pulled her aside finally. Lunch was approaching, and there would be a massive fight if tensions stayed this high.

"I just don't know what it is or why she won't tell me," Rachel whined. "I mean, except for you, she's my best friend now."

"Don't take it personal," I said. "Honest, Rachel, she gets like this."

"Well, I'm just worried." And the sad thing was she truly was. You could see it on her face, like she feared Angela would flip on her or something, and then it all made sense.

She explained to me, using far too many words than necessary, that Angela showed up late and spent the wee hours of Saturday morning throwing up in their bathroom. I was stunned, wondering why Angela didn't come to my house instead, but then would I have wanted her to come that night? No. _God no_. Steve would've killed her.

"Ma called her mother last night." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and sighed. "I begged her not to, but she said another mother had a right to know what her daughter had been doing. It was a miracle she didn't phone sooner with how upset she was. Gosh, it was three in the morning when she got home from work and found us. She thought it was Two-Bit making the puking noises. Imagine her surprise."

That sounded like Beth Mathews—nice and friendly, but harsh when she needed to be.

"I just hope Angela doesn't hate me now, 'cause my mom ratted her out."

"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "I mean, Steve told Tim Angela was flirting with some guy in his gang once, and Angela's still on okay terms with me."

Her eyes grew huge, and she almost gasped. "Really? Oh my, God, that's awful. Why would Steve do that?"

"I dunno." He was an asshole? He wanted to see Angela squirm? The point was he did it and Angela didn't hate me.

"Well, I guess I'll be okay then." She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "I'll see you at lunch, Julia. We should probably go before we're late for class."

She scurried off, but I took my time. We already _were_ late, and I didn't see what difference it made. I had so many tardies these days, I couldn't keep track of them.

xxxx

Lunch was quiet for the longest time. Rachel made some small talk about how Thanksgiving was coming up, but that was the last thing I wanted to think about. If we spent it when any of Dad's relatives, the weekend was sure to be hell.

Angela remained silent. She picked at her food, glaring at damn near everybody in the lunchroom. She picked up a grape, smashed it between her fingers, and turned to where Rachel and I sat next to each other. "I'm gonna start a food fight," she said nonchalantly.

Rachel and I both looked at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"If you do that, you'll get suspended two days," Rachel warned her. "Why would you wanna do that?"

I almost slapped Rachel. Didn't she know Angela wouldn't give a shit about getting suspended by now?

Angela shrugged. "I wanna give this school something to remember me by." She picked up another grape and squished that one too.

"What do you mean?" I asked her. "You're leaving?" I hoped this wasn't some suicidal bullshit. She'd said crazy things like that in the past, so I couldn't be too sure.

"My darling mother is enrolling me in the Catholic school next week," she hissed, squishing the entire bunch of grapes in her fist at once. "Thinks it'll straighten me out."

Catholic school? How were they even gonna pay for that?

Rachel took the words out of my mouth and asked her nearly the same question. "Your family have money for that?"

"That's what I said. Guess she an' the priest're _real_ great pals," she sneered. "Got me a voucher or somethin'."

She stood up.

"Angela, no," Rachel tried, but Angela ignored her and hurled the mess of grapes across the room.

That was all a few boys needed to start whipping everything off their trays. Within seconds, the fight was in full force. All the teachers were in disarray, screaming at the top of their lungs to cut it out, but their words meant nothing as chaos erupted throughout the lunch room.

No one was immune to it. Even Rachel and I threw stuff at each other after a while. Well, everyone except Angela… She retook her seat quietly and smirked at the mess she'd created.

The fight went on for several minutes, and when it finally stopped, all three of us were deemed the instigators. It didn't seem to matter that Angela had started the entire thing on her own. Well, I guess she had the help of a few stupid boys eager to fight, but _she_ threw those grapes.

Still, everyone pointed their finger back to our table when asked, and that was all the teachers who disbanded the mess needed to drag all three of us to the principal's office.

* * *

Yet another cliffhanger… They are just natural places to cut things, I'm afraid!

And now, I want your suggestions. This story is officially half over, and I need to get writing the sequel. Do you want the sequel to this story first or the sequel to Before I Fall? Also, is there anything you would like to see in this story before the end? The overall plot is set, but I do have a little wiggle room to work with. (We would be rushing to the end otherwise!) So please, voice your thoughts! Now's your chance! Thanks a million ahead of time. You've been so supportive so far, it's amazing.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Edit: Thank you, shattered glass slipper for catching my typos. The changes have been applied. :) Thanks for the reviews as well! I can't tell you how encouraging they are to the posting process...

* * *

All three of us ended up sharing a bench outside the principal's office. We were told to wait until he was done with another student, and that wait meant more to some of us than it did others.

Angela didn't give a shit. She sat with her legs and arms crossed, staring at the wall blankly. Rachel, on the other hand, was bouncing her legs incessantly and near tears, and me, I didn't know how I felt yet. I was pissed at Angela, sure, but it just seemed strange for this to happen; for me to get blamed for a food fight when I hardly touched the disgusting school food at lunch. It wouldn't be the first time Angela had gotten me in trouble, but at least the other times, I got something out of it. When she persuaded me to steal something, I almost got makeup. When she persuaded me to skip, I got to skip school. When she took me to The Dingo, I got to hang out with Ponyboy Curtis, and so on and so forth for all the million things we'd done something over the years, but there was nothing positive about getting blamed for something you didn't do.

I was bitter. That was the emotion I was looking for, if only because my dad would flip shit over this and prove himself to be a hypocrite once more, and there was no way it wouldn't happen. If he was in the mood to punch his best friend, I didn't want to think about how he'd react to a call from the school. Steve answering that phone call would be best case scenario; as long as Angela's name never entered the conversation, he might find me getting pinned for starting a food fight funny. He didn't think it was funny when I punched Marie Greenwood, but that was different. Me getting in a fist fight'd be a bigger deal than a stupid food fight.

"This is so unfair, Angela," Rachel whispered harshly. "You _have _to tell them it was _all _your fault."

Rachel had said this at least fifty times now, and each time, Angela didn't bat an eye. She just kept her gaze looked forward and pretended Rachel wasn't throwing a massive tantrum. I don't think I'd ever seen her so nervous, not since she'd gotten caught trying to steal Angela cigarettes weeks ago.

"Glory, we're gonna get in so much trouble. I've never been to the principal's office before." Rachel stopped bouncing her legs for a split second and chewed the nail on her left thumb instead. "You shouldn't have done that, Angel. Why would you do that?"

Angela smirked. "You seemed to enjoy it."

I turned, surprised she'd actually starting replying to Rachel's nonsensical worries.

"Well, not anymore!" Rachel stomped a foot down to emphasize her words.

A secretary eyed us and Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth when it was probably the foot stomp that made the secretary's head turn.

She should know talking to Angela was useless anyway, which is why when Angela glanced in my direction, I said everything I felt about the incident in a simple glare. That broke her cool. Rachel had been babbling on nervously for minutes now, but one glare from me finally got a reaction out of Angela. She shifted her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. It was moments like these I knew we were truly friends. Though she'd never admit it out loud, she _did_ care about my opinion, and I should hope so, because this had to be the stupidest thing she'd ever done that got me in trouble.

Through the silence, the bench squeaked and rattled from Rachel's leg bouncing. I did my best to ignore it, but Angela couldn't do the same; she smacked her hand down on Rachel's knees a moment later. "Stop it."

Rachel grimaced and slapped Angela's hand away. "I can't."

"I'm serious, Rach. This ain't a big deal." She actually sounded like she was trying to be reassuring, but Angela was about the least assuring person on the planet. "Listen, it won't be bad."

"Says you," Rachel sneered at her. "You probably get in trouble every day. I've _never_ been in trouble."

"Worst case scenario, they paddle you," Angela said impatiently, like it was supposed to calm Rachel down. I rolled my eyes; she was going to achieve the exact opposite reaction.

Rachel looked horrified.

"Trust me, you'll survive," Angela said, patting Rachel's knee. "They only hit you a couple times. You'd probably get worse at home."

Rachel's eyes widened even more. "My mom's never hit me before."

"Sure, she hasn't."

Angela turned to me and lifted her eyebrows at me like she couldn't believe Rachel.

I glared at her again, and she resumed staring at the wall.

Rachel tapped Angela's shoulder. "They ever done that to you?" she asked quietly.

"What do you think?" Angela sneered back

"I … I always thought Two-Bit was just tryin' to scare me when he talked about that."

"Well, I guess you're in for a rude awakening then." A smug grin crept across Angela's lips, and I slapped her arm. Now she was just trying to frighten the poor girl on purpose. Rachel had nothing to worry about; if they didn't hit me for giving Marie a bloody nose, they probably wouldn't now. The only thing she should be concerned about was her mother's reaction to it. Knowing her mother she'd probably chew her out and ground her, or something like that.

I folded my arms and closed my eyes for a couple seconds, trying to tune out everything from my surroundings. My own nerves were starting to creep up on me, and I'd kill to be Rachel right now; dealing with her mother had to be a million times more pleasant than dealing with Dad.

"Angela what the heck're you doin'?" Rachel's sharp shrill snapped my attention back to them, and when I saw a cigarette between Angela's fingers, I didn't have to guess why she'd screeched.

I just ignored it. If Angela wanted to get herself in worse trouble, she could be my guest for all I cared.

The secretary, who'd mostly pretended not to hear our talking up until this point, shot out of her desk and marched over to Angela with her hands on her hips. "Angela Shepard, you put that out this instant." She eyed Angela furiously.

Angela shook her head and flicked the ashes at the secretary.

_That idiot_, I thought. She'd done it on purpose too. The office staff failed to scare her anymore; she'd been her more times than I could count, but anything they did couldn't be worse than what happened at home, so she never gave a shit. It was a game for her, to see how much she could anger them, and she was certainly walking herself into serious trouble now. I didn't get it. Sure, my dad probably had and would do worse to me, but sometimes I wondered if Angela respected anybody. Maybe Tim, but I'd seen the way she treated him.

The secretary grabbed Angela's forearm and confiscated the cigarette from her. "God in heaven, I've never encountered such a rude student in my life, Angela." You could tell the poor lady was at her wit's end if she was willing to say that to her. I'd always known the secretary to be kind and nice.

"You sure about that, Betty?" Angela's eyes glimmered. She smiled so broad, it almost revealed her teeth. "I'll bet anything my brother Curly gave ya a run for his money. How 'bout Tim? Surely you remember Tim."

Betty held her hand out. "Give me the cigarettes."

"What? So you can smoke them in the teacher's lounge?"

Betty shook her outstretched hand once to let Angela know she meant it. "Now, Angela, or I'll get the principal."

"Oooo, I'm so scared." Angela stood up and stared Betty down. "You know what? Why don't you do that, Betty? I'm sure he'd love to see me."

Betty's eyes fluttered and her face went beet red. She whipped around and rushed at the door to the principal's office. She rapped her fist against it. "Mr. Hanson, I need you out here immediately."

"Angela," Rachel chided.

Angela sat back down and said nothing. Before we knew it, Mr. Hanson emerged. Betty stabbed her finger towards Angela, and his expression went from confused to exasperated fast.

"Don't you ever get sick of seeing me?"

"She was smoking a cigarette out here for heaven's sake, and she's been nothing but rude and disrespectful since she got here!"

Mr. Hanson didn't look surprised. He simply motioned for Angela to follow him into his office. As evidenced by the time I punched Marie, he was a pretty cool, level-headed man, but his patience for Angela seemed thin, and I didn't blame him.

"Ms. Shepard," he said once and bobbed his head towards the office.

Angela got up slowly and walked to the office, flipping Betty the bird as she took each step. That struck Mr. Hanson's final nerve, and his reaction even scared me a little. He grabbed her by her ear and drug her the rest of the way.

The door slammed shut, and it didn't talk long before we knew what was happening.

Tears streamed down Rachel's cheeks, and she flinched each of the three times we heard a sharp thud. Angela didn't make a sound, at least not one we could hear, but I still had an awful time feeling sorry for her. She'd brought it on herself as far as I was concerned.

Rachel grabbed my hand and squeezed it for moral support. I rolled my eyes but let her anyways.

A couple minutes later, Mr. Hanson emerged with a tearless, stone-faced Angela in hand. She scowled at everyone but listened to Mr. Hanson when he told her to take a seat. "Keep an eye on her until her mother picks her up," he told Betty, and then he approached us.

I thought Rachel might die at that moment. She squeezed my hand tighter and struggled to look up at him. "Well, Ms. Shepard here confessed to starting the entire fight." He clapped his hands together and sighed. "You two can go help the rest of the participants clean up the cafeteria, and as soon as you're done, go straight back to class, sound fair?"

Rachel nodded fervently. "You'll never see me in here again, Mr. Hanson, I promise."

I didn't say a word. I just followed her as she scurried off to the cafeteria.

xxxx

I wanted to clean in silence, but Rachel wanted to talk about everything. "Glory, we got lucky," she remarked for about the thousandth time.

I wrung my rag out in the bucket and started wiping up another ketchup spill. On the thousandth time, it probably didn't require a response from me, but nothing, not even my silence, stopped her talking. "Think Angela's okay? I mean, that sounded awful…"

Awful to Rachel, sure, but it didn't mean a thing to Angela; otherwise she wouldn't have given the secretary the middle finger. Rachel must've had no clue what went on at the Shepard house.

"I can't believe they actually hit her. That's horrible!"

I slopped my rag down in the bucket and sighed. "I can." I didn't understand why she was so surprised either.

"I hope she's okay," she repeated.

I picked the rag out of the bucket. If I didn't hurry it up, we'd be cleaning forever. It'd already been an hour, and I had no idea cleaning up a food fight would take this long. The three boys they singled out as participants had no clue how to clean. The only thing they were good for was pushing the mess around. They wore nice outfits, which of course were soiled now, but you could tell by the way they dressed they probably lived on the good side of town, so either their mothers stayed home and did everything for them or they had maids. And Rachel, well, she was talking way more than she was cleaning, but the most annoying thing was only five of us were made to clean when way more than five participated.

"How come when I say that you say nothing?"

Because I didn't know what to say. I was just as relieved we hadn't gotten in trouble, and even more relieved my Dad would never find out about this, but her immaturity bothered me more than ever today. Maybe it was just that my patience was spent, trying to be nice to Leroy, who was even more oblivious and ignorant than she was.

"Julia…"

That was it. I snapped. "Fuck Angela."

Rachel gasped, stunned such a word could fly out of my mouth.

"What? It's just a word…"

"But what if a teacher heard you say that?" she whispered, glancing around us to make sure none were in earshot. "We just got lucky. Don't push it."

"Then fuck them too." It felt odd, rolling off my tongue so easily. Maybe Steve had a point about cussing. For some reason, cussing felt better when I was using it to irritate him on purpose than when I was using it in front of my friends. With Angela, it wouldn't matter, but with Rachel, it just made me feel like I was trying to impress her, which I clearly wouldn't.

Rachel looked anxious and started scrubbing the table faster. She didn't say anything, but I could tell what she was thinking; she thought I was turning into Angela.

She made little effort to talk to me after that, so I let the conversation die and enjoyed the silence.

xxxx

Leroy shot off the couch almost instantly when I got home and followed me to the kitchen. I guess I'd replaced Charlie as his favorite person around here.

"Charlie wanted me to tell you and Steve he's gonna be gone for a couple days."

That happened sometimes. Well, he'd be gone a night, but days? "What?"

"He said he's gonna look for a job."

"Like … in other cities?"

Leroy shrugged. "I guess so."

"Jesus Christ." I pressed a hand to my forehead and groaned.

Leroy stared at me in shook.

"What?" I asked him impatiently.

"Oh, nothin'." He dismissed it, shifting his eyes towards the ground. I figured it out then; I'd just broken one of the Ten Commandments.

"Charlie is an idiot," I kept on, knowing it might scare Leroy, but maybe he needed to hear this all anyway. "He hasn't even enrolled you in school yet. Pretty sure that's illegal, and now he's leaving for a few days. Great."

"He probably will get a job," Leroy said. He looked confident in himself too.

"No, he won't."

"I … I think he will," Leroy stammered. "He wouldn't lie about that."

I sighed. "He lies about a lot of shit. That's what he does."

"Why?"

"To buy himself time so he doesn't have to explain himself." I realized at that moment I was regurgitating things Steve had either said to me or I'd overhead him tell others, and maybe at one point I was just like Leroy too, but not anymore.

The phone rang. Leroy stepped towards it and eyed me hesitantly.

"Go on," I told him. "You live here now, don't you?"

Leroy walked the rest of the way and picked it up on the fourth ring. "Randle residence," Leroy said, sounding so professional. No one in our house had ever answered a phone that politely. "Hi, Aunt Rita."

Hearing her name instantly made me glad I'd let him answer the phone.

"No, he's not," Leroy said.

I assumed she was asking about Dad and prayed a silent prayer she wouldn't ask to talk to me.

"I dunno when he'll be home."

Shit, she didn't need to hear that. I tapped Leroy's shoulder and tried as hard as I could to make him shut up before he spilled the full truth.

He didn't seem to get it. Out of desperation, I grabbed at the phone, but he whipped around, giving me a dirty look.

"He said he won't be home for a couple days 'cause he's looking for a job."

Too late now. That was the last thing Aunt Rita needed to hear.

I glared at Leroy. What an idiot. He didn't do it on purpose. Maybe she'd come down here and get him, and things would go back to normal, but somehow I had a feeling she'd want to take me with her too.

He talked to her a couple minutes more, and by the time he'd hung up, my glare had turned violent. "Nice going. Now she's probably gonna come down here."

"I dunno why you're upset," he mumbled. "If Charlie's not gonna be here, we should probably have an adult watching us."

"Steve would've been fine," I hissed back, but as soon as the words left my lips, I remembered Steve had been really hostile to Leroy. He had always taken care of me just fine, but Leroy was a different story.

"Why would've I been fine?"

I turned. I hadn't even noticed he'd walked in the kitchen. He was probably on his way to leave. Leroy annoyed him so much, he stayed in his room whenever he was home now.

I just started walking away. If I revealed it was Leroy's fault Aunt Rita was on her way, Steve would kill him, and he didn't deserve that.

"What the hell?" Steve chased after me. "I don't have time for this. I got plans, you know."

"Then why don't you just go."

I kept walking. This was a bad, bad position to be in. I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn't do that without him flipping on Leroy.

I made it all the way to my room, and when I moved to shut the door, Steve's hand stopped it. "You're gonna tell me everything right now," he said.

I gave up without a fight. It wasn't worth keeping it in when he'd figure it out sooner or later.

I told him everything about Leroy and even what had happened at lunch.

* * *

Oh boy. Thoughts on the inevitable future drama? ;)


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Steve was too hacked about Dad to care about my food fight. I mentioned it casually to explain the giant stain on my cardigan, but his brain was reeling in different directions. He dismissed it immediately, saying it couldn't have been anything compared to the food fights Two-Bit and Soda instigated and went on to ramble about how pissed he was at our father instead. "There's no way in hell he's lookin' for a job," he concluded. "It's Thanksgiving in two days. How the hell's he gonna find anything when damn near everything's closed?"

My stomach flipped, registering the implications of what he said. I didn't think about Thanksgiving when Leroy brought it up, but this confirmed my suspicion a job wasn't in Dad's immediate plans. My eyes watered, and I took a deep breath to shove the tears back inside me. "He's gonna leave us alone on a holiday?" I stumbled on my words and tried to tell myself it wasn't a big deal. We never celebrated holidays anyway. It didn't matter what they were; Christmas, Easter, birthdays—they were just regular days around here. Sometimes there were a few cheap gifts but never a fancy meal, and we rarely, if ever, got together with Dad's relatives, but to think he could leave us alone when a holiday was supposed to be a family thing stung. He could deny his other relatives, but damn it, me and Steve were his _kids_.

"I guess he is." Steve's face hardened to conceal his upset, which was still very clear to me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say his eyes were a little glossed over too, but whether that was because he was sad or so angry he didn't know what to do with himself, I didn't know.

"Leroy said Aunt Rita's coming here for sure," I mumbled, my voice hardly above a whisper.

"Well, that's just fucking great," Steve said, clenching his fists. "Is he retarded? I mean, fuck! You don't tell her shit like that."

What say was getting at was Aunt Rita knew all the family drama like the back of her hand and made it her business to know everything about everyone always, but of course she had to be a lady about it. She put up this front, always insisting she was helping everyone. Steve and I saw through it; he had since they day we moved in with her, and for as young as was, it didn't take me long to agree with him.

"You don't think she'll try to make us go there for Thanksgiving, do you?" I asked.

"Don't even go there, Jule."

"But Steve," I whined, spiraling into a miserable mess. "What _if _she does?"

"Then we let her take Leroy and you stay here with me," he said decisively, like the right to decide this was on him and him alone.

I shook my head. "It'll Thanksgiving for Christ's sakes. She won't wanna leave us alone when it's Thanksgiving."

"Well, that's what's happening whether she likes it or not. I'm not goin' up there, and damn it, you're staying wherever I am. I don't trust these dipshits."

That should've been enough to comfort me, but it only made my bottom lip quiver. His confidence scared me because I wasn't sure I could trust it. "But maybe she'll talk to Dad, and he'll say it's okay or somethin'. I dunno!"

"Listen to me, Jule, I ain't lettin' none of this happen."

"It still could…"

"It won't, but if it makes you feel better, how 'bout I promise you this? If it happens, I'll follow up there."

I beamed for a second, touched he would consider that, but then skepticism got the best of me and I dared argue more. "What about Soda and Evie and all of them? You'd just leave?"

He nodded.

I wasn't sure I believed him. He was gone a couple nights a week as it was; how would he handle being away from his friends or his girlfriend? And how could he entertain the idea of living with the person he hated the most? "But Steve, you're gone all the time an'…" I stopped myself.

He grew visibly more frustrated by the second. "I don't make empty promises."

"I didn't say that."

"Kinda what you were gettin' it."

"But…" I caught myself again and bit down on my lip.

Steve turned to face me and looked at me like he might start laying into me. I braced myself. "Remember when I told you I could go to juvie if I didn't straighten myself out?" he asked.

I didn't see what he was getting at, but I nodded anyway.

"Well, I _did_ clean my act up, and I didn't do it 'cause I thought my friends would miss me." His tone was tense, letting me know I'd struck the wrong nerve. I swallowed and hoped he wouldn't yell much longer.

"I did it 'cause I couldn't stand the thought of you alone with Charlie, so don't you dare think I wouldn't keep a promise to you."

"I'm sorry, Steve," I said genuinely and not just to appease him. "I didn't know."

He held eye contact with me a few seconds and turned so he was no longer facing me.

"I believe you, Steve." I scooted closer to him. "I mean that."

He held up his hand.

"Steve, I'm sorry," I tried again. I felt awful for doubting him; it was Aunt Rita I was truly worried about, not him.

He sighed. "You look disgusting. There's ketchup and god knows what else all over you. "

I looked down; the stains were clearly visible. "Oh, um, sorry."

He sat up and headed towards the door. "You change," he said. "I'mma find that little shit."

"Steve, wait!" I called after him, but he'd already shut the door.

I threw off my clothes and put on new ones as fast as I could, but it wasn't soon enough. I could already hear Steve freaking out at Leroy with my bedroom door shut. By the time I reached the living room, Leroy looked near tears.

He stared at me, his eyes begging me to help him out, so I slapped Steve's arm as hard as I could. "Knock it off. He didn't do it on purpose, Steve!"

I drew my arm back to hit him again, but Steve caught my wrist before I could. He didn't say a word; he just restrained my hands and went on saying his peace to Leroy. "If you really wanna be here, you had to know tellin' her was about the dumbest fucking thing you could do."

"Steve!"

"Shut up." He whipped his head around to glare at me before sending an even icier look to Leroy. "She don't need to know shit. Maybe this house ain't a goddamned carnival, but we get by without her inference just fine."

I yanked my hands out of Steve's grip and backed away from him. There was little I could do; if Steve charged at Leroy, I'd try to interfere again, but Steve was impossible to deal with when he got angry.

"She asked me where he was when she called, and I couldn't lie to her," Leroy mumbled, wringing his hands in his lap. "And … and if Charlie's gone, we need an adult to watch us."

My eyes flipped to Steve, waiting on his inevitable reaction.

I expected him to spring at Leroy and punch the crap out of him, but he stood back. Nostrils flared, fists balled at his sides, he looked ready to kill Leroy at a moment's notice, but he held himself back.

"Leroy, we kinda make do without him when he's gone," I started in an effort quell the tension. "That's just how it's always been, and I'm sorry you didn't know that. I mean, how could you have? But …" I trailed off. This was awkward. Every word I said just sounded awkward. It was true, but to most people in the universe, Leroy had the logical argument—Charlie was the adult whether he acted like it or not, and Steve was only seventeen.

I looked to Steve, and he said nothing. Maybe he expected me to keep talking since he knew he couldn't without hollering his head off.

"So he just leaves?" Leroy questioned, and my patience grew thinner. We'd established that, hadn't we? Dad left and came back an undetermined amount of time later. Most of the time, the same night or the next morning. When he was gone longer, he usually warned us, just as he had this time, but you could never be one hundred percent sure what he intended to do at any given time.

"I wasn't lying when I said it before," I confirmed.

Leroy went pale. "But that's horrible. Somebody should know about that then. He shouldn't be able to do that…"

"Yeah, well, he does," Steve broke in, no longer able to hold back. "And it don't matter, 'cause he's just as worthless here or gone. In fact, it'd probably be better if he'd just stayed gone for once instead of showing up the next morning, hungover and apologizin' for shit he ain't sorry for!"

"Steve…" I was just as mad at Dad as him, but he shouldn't say that. I didn't want him gone forever.

"Shut up."

I stepped forward and ignored him, opting to reason with Leroy once more. He might listen to me, but Steve would only scare him more. "You're right," I told him. "It _is_ wrong, but it's better than living with her, 'cause if you think she'd be any better, you … you don't have a goddamned clue what you're talkin' about."

He didn't argue with me, but he looked confused, very confused.

I glanced at Steve. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and nodded his head for me to keep talking. At least he was making an effort not to kill Leroy.

"Look, if you're gonna live here, you gotta figure a few things out." I took a deep breath and decided to just be blunt. "We don't talk to her _ever_. Last time I saw her was the first time in years if that tells you anything, and for a damn good reason too. She's awful."

"No, she's not."

A small wave of anger rose within me, and when I turned to Steve again, he looked even worse off than me as far as keeping his anger in check went. "She is," I told Leroy quickly before Steve got a chance to jump on him. "You're just too immature to see it now, but trust me, the years we spent with her were _bad_." Bad was an understatement. Fucking horrible was a better way of putting it, but if I swore, he'd stop listening to me that second.

"I ain't immature." Leroy stood up and approached me, trying to look intimidating, as though he had to prove his maturity, but his shoulders were slumped and he couldn't scare me if he tried. "I'm older than you _and_ I'm your uncle."

Steve stepped behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

"You two should have some respect for your uncle," he said, now wavering even more that Steve was there.

"Excuse me?" Steve shoved me behind him and got in Leroy's face.

Leroy hesitated. "You… you heard me!"

Steve grabbed Leroy by his shirt collar, and I gasped. _Please don't punch him_, I prayed. _Please, please, don't punch him_. "If you _ever _say that to me or her again, I'll beat the tar outa you, you little shit."

Leroy nodded.

"I don't give a flying fuck if you're our uncle or the President of the United States, you don't deserve my respect or hers."

Leroy nodded a second time, stronger than the first.

Steve released him, and Leroy backed away fast.

Steve glared at him a moment more, hurled his fist at the couch, and bolted for his room.

I chased after him and ran in front of him. "Was that really necessary?"

He halted for a second and cross his arms. "Yeah, it was, and I don't wanna here a goddamned word about it 'cause I was nice enough not kick his ass now."

Not punching him was nice? I shook my head at Steve, once again astounded by how Steve thought of things. Apparently it was okay for him to be the biggest asshole ever in what he said to somebody, but if he didn't punch them, it redeemed him one hundred percent.

Steve pushed me to the side of him and kept walking. He barely shoved me compared to what he could've done, and he was mad enough to explode right now.

I drug my feet back to the living room and sat down next to Leroy who was still shaking.

"Sorry about him."

"I don't know how you live with him." His voice shook as much as his body. "From what I see, he don't treat you too well either. He's even worse than your dad."

I sighed. From Leroy's perspective, it probably looked that way. Since he'd gotten here, Steve had been a frustrated mess, making snide remarks to damn near anyone who crossed his path, but he treated me just fine, and he was loads better than my dad.

"Maybe when Aunt Rita comes, you and I can both go to her place," Leroy suggested, and I couldn't stay calm any longer.

I shot out of my seat immediately. "Did you pay attention to _anything_ I told you?"

"I'm just worried about you," he defended himself. "I mean—"

"Well, you got nothing to worry about," I interrupted him before he spout out anymore bullshit about Steve. "Steve might be an asshole to you, but he's actually pretty good to me."

He looked unconvinced. "Don't seem like it."

God, he was dense. He'd seen how Steve was decent to me. He saw it that night when I was crying up in the attic bedroom the three of us were forced to share, and Steve hadn't been that bad to me since he showed up.

"Well, he is," I told him. "He really is." And after that I couldn't stand looking at him anymore.

I ran to Steve's door and knocked several times.

He opened the door and groaned. "Jesus, where's the fire?"

I hugged him before I said anything else. He must've thought I was crazy, but I didn't care.

"What the hell is this for?"

"I dunno," I said, but I didn't let go.

"If I hug you back, will you let go of me?" he grumbled, putting his arms around me in a very half-assed hug. "I can hardly breathe."

I let go and looked at my feet, slightly embarrassed.

"Anything else you wanted to tell me?" he asked, and I took it as a sign he wanted to be left alone and shuffled my feet towards the door.

"Hey, wait." He caught my wrist and pulled me back. "I heard you and the little sack of shit arguing. What was that about?"

"You."

He raised both eyebrows.

"He thinks you're mean to me."

Steve snorted. "Only when you deserve it."

I wasn't sure what to say—a thank you seemed way too awkward. "I told him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about."

"I heard you," he assured me. "And yeah, he's pretty goddamned stupid."

"You still have plans for the night?"

He sighed and thought about it for a moment. "Nah, that bastard ruined 'em."

"It's a long drive from Aunt Rita's to here," I pointed out. "She probably won't get here until tomorrow, if she comes at all."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not take any chances." He reached out and pulled me into a hug, a real one this time. "I meant everything I said earlier. You know that, right?"

I nodded into his chest. I did know that, but it was still nice to hear it another time.

He released me but kept one hand on my shoulder. "Besides, I was thinkin', maybe I should get some of my buddies over here just to scare the wits outa Leroy."

"Really? Thought you hated having me around your friends."

"I still do, but it could be kind of fun to mess with Leroy, huh?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

It sounded mean to be honest, but at least it'd make for an interesting evening.

xxxx

Two-Bit, Soda, and Pony all came over. I was relieved to see Pony—the other two might drive me crazy enough to spend the rest of the night in my room—and decided I'd make a point to talk to him before he left, but for now, it was fun to watch the action from a distance.

For some reason, Two-Bit scared Leroy the most; maybe because he also talked to him the most, but Leroy looked the most uncomfortable I'd seen him all week. "I'm with you, man. That man right there, your nephew, he's a jerk." Two-Bit pointed to Steve and held up his other hand for a high five. "I asked him to fix my car for me the other day, and you know what he says to me? Says I hadda pay like all the other customers."

"Well, your car ain't exactly a cheap fix Two-Bit," Soda piped up. "We can only work so many miracles before you have to replace that piece of shit engine."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with the engine."

"Maybe if you bothered to take care of your car, there wouldn't be," Steve said.

Two-Bit shook head and turned to Leroy. "See? They're both idiots. My car's just fine."

Leroy looked scared, really scared. It didn't matter what Two-Bit was talking about, he looked like he was about to piss himself, and it amused me way more than it should.

"So you're Ponyboy's age?" Two-Bit asked him.

"What's Ponyboy's age mean?"

"Ponyboy's a person, not an age. This kid right here." He ruffled Pony's hair. "This's Ponyboy, and he's fourteen."

"Yeah, I'm almost fourteen," Leroy said. "I'll be fourteen on Friday."

"Well, happy early birthday!" Two-Bit boomed. "How 'bout we get the birthday boy a little somethin' to drink? He looks thirsty."

Ponyboy gave him a funny look. Two-Bit elbowed him and winked.

He got up and headed towards the kitchen.

I looked at Steve to say something, and he only shrugged. He was okay with this?

I glared at him and chased after Two-Bit. "Whatever you're thinking, stop."

"Don't you worry. I ain't doin' nothin' illegal," he told me right as he poured whiskey into the glass of coke he was about to give Leroy.

"Uh, he's gonna be able to taste that much, you idiot."

"Relax, after a few sips, he probably won't even care what it tastes like."

"Two-Bit, put the glass down," I told him, trying to sound threatening. "He gets upset when we cuss around him. He'll be cryin' if you give him alcohol."

Two-Bit ignored me and poured a tiny bit more whiskey into the glass.

I reached for it, and he shook his head at me. "Oh no, you don't," he said with a giant grin. "None for you, little miss."

"But you're gonna give it to Leroy?" I questioned his logic, and he patted my shoulder.

"He's gonna be fourteen," Two-Bit insisted. "Every young boy should have at least one drink by then, and he's got some major catching up to do."

He carried the glass out to Leroy. I trailed behind and watched nervously as Leroy took his first sip.

He grimaced and barely swallowed it. "It tastes like gasoline," he said and braved another sip. "Did you put something in it?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, it ain't alcohol." Two-Bit smirked at him.

"You… you sure?"

"Hey, I'll try it and make sure Two-Bit ain't bullshitting ya," Soda offered. He took the glass and drank a small amount. "Nope, no alcohol in that!"

Leroy looked skeptical but took the glass the back. He drank a few more sips, and I couldn't stand watching it anymore. "Leroy, I saw him," I called out to him.

Two-Bit glared at me and slashed a finger across his throat.

I rolled my eyes and told Leroy anyway. "There's whiskey in it."

Leroy stared at me and then down at the glass. "I think maybe I like it."

I gave him a confused like; was he trying to impress Two-Bit all of a sudden?

"Atta boy," Two-Bit clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You'll like it even better in a few minutes."

"Wait, can you get drunk off one glass?" he asked Two-Bit.

"Nope."

Soda, Steve, and even Pony confirmed Two-Bit's answer with a chorus of no's.

"I'll … I'll drink the rest of this, but then I'll be done," Leroy choked out.

Everyone roared with laughter, and I stared on, horrified they could actually do this. Leroy was just an innocent kid, and they didn't have to push their recklessness on him.

Steve noticed how upset I was and walked up to me. "Hey."

I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster.

"He'll be fine," Steve said, pulling me into the hallway for a moment. "One drink won't kill him. Maybe he'll actually have a little fun tonight."

"Why would you suddenly care about him having any fun?" I demanded. "You hate him!"

"Nah, you were right when you said he didn't do it on purpose."

My eyes grew wide. "Excuse me, did _you_ just admit I was right about something?"

"Yeah." He balled a fist and tapped my arm in a mock punch. "Better enjoy it now. Might be the only time you're right in years."

"Just … make sure they don't give him another drink, okay?"

"Sure thing. No drinks for you though, savvy?"

"Yeah, fine." I sighed and turned the corner back into the living room. Somehow I knew that'd be another double standard; the boys could drink, and I couldn't. I'd have argued about it, but I didn't feel like drinking anyway.

I glanced at Leroy and saw a now empty glass in his hand. In my short conversation with Steve, he'd managed to down the entire glass.

I sat down and reminded myself there was no way Aunt Rita could arrive before tomorrow, and when she did come, Leroy probably wouldn't want her to know about it for fear he could get in trouble too.

Still, nothing good could come of this.

* * *

Thanks again for reviews, anons and FF members! Over 300 now is WOW! I'm so thrilled and flattered you like it. As always, I hope this chapter is satisfactory, and that you'll feel compelled to keep reviewing. :)


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

The correct chapter is now uploaded. Sorry to those who read the previous, less polished version!

* * *

Steve tried to stop the nonsense after glass one as he'd promised me, but Leroy insisted he wanted drinks two and three. He looked Steve right in the eye and said so. Apparently Steve saw no harm in it, because he let Leroy down those as fast as the first, and now Two-Bit had set glass number four down in front of him.

Leroy eyed it uneasily and reached for it a moment later. His hand shook as it cupped around the glass, but for reasons unknown to me, he looked determined to do this, almost as if he wanted to get drunk. I didn't understand. This kid couldn't handle a cuss word, and now he _wanted_ to do this?

I stepped forward, prepared to step in before the night turned ugly, but much to my surprise, Pony spoke up for me. "Hey, I think you should be done. Trust me, it ain't fun to be drunk your first time." He elbowed Two-Bit's arm. "That's probably enough for his first time, huh?"

"Yeah, three's probably enough for you, buddy," Two-Bit agreed.

Leroy retracted his hand and breathed a heavy sigh, looking awfully relieved he had their permission to stop. This was ridiculous. I guess he'd only wanted to do it because they peer pressured him into it, and to think they could use his oblivion for their own sick enjoyment put a horrid taste in my mouth.

It wasn't just wrong; it was dangerous. There was no telling how much alcohol Two-Bit put in those glasses, not to mention Leroy downed them quick. Maybe I didn't know much about drinking, but I knew it was a bad idea to drink that way, even if you were experienced. Three Two-Bit style drinks was just asking to be gone for a normal person, but for Leroy, it seemed lethal.

Leroy stood up and teetered into the kitchen. I watched him move, thankful he didn't look too drunk yet, but you could tell the effects were kicking in and fast.

He stumbled forward on his step from the carpet to linoleum, barely catching his balance on the wall, and I cringed when he took the next step and almost hit the floor.

"What're you doin'?" I chased after him and reached out to steady him.

"I jus' wanna get a glass'a water." He hiccupped and shifted his weight from me to the counter for support. "An' somethin' to eat."

"Just stay there. I'll get you water." I took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with tap water. "Take tiny sips, okay?" I waited for an affirmative response before I set the glass down. "You gotta be careful or you'll start puking."

He drank a few sips, and apparently he forgot all about food because one moment he was in here and the next he was out there arm wrestling Soda. How he managed to go from barely walking to being the life of a party, I didn't know. Maybe he needed to get used to what it felt like to be drunk, or maybe he didn't care because he was having so much fun.

He didn't stop at arm wrestling. He started telling stories about his dead dog and everything else he could think of. Everyone laughed, except me. He even laughed at himself when the guys made fun of how clueless he was, but eventually things took a turn for the worse.

It started out simple. He settled himself on the far end of the couch and clutched his stomach, cringing at the excessive noise my brother and his friends made. Before long, he was completely hunched over. I started to worry he'd blow chunks. "You okay?" I knelt down in front of him. "You don't look so good..."

He nodded.

Steve and Pony approached him and asked the same question; he nodded for them too.

"He don't look green yet," Two-Bit offered. "If he don't look green, he's probably gonna live."

"Shut up, Two-Bit, it ain't funny," I snapped.

Two-Bit's grin drooped into fake frown and he pretended to be truly insulted by me. "Somebody's a party pooper."

I ignored him, paying all my attention to Leroy, trying to discern if he'd be okay or not. Of course he would be eventually, but he looked awfully ill.

I stepped away from Leroy and backed myself into a corner, eying my brother and his friends with disgust. All of them, even Pony, had played a role in this, and now poor Leroy was paying the price, but of course the party went on around him. Well, if you could call it that. Wasn't much of a party if you asked me. They were just goofing off and acting like slobs. Belching, passing gas, laughing at each other's crude jokes…. So _this_ was what my brother did with his friends? When they weren't drinking, smoking or picking fights, they just sat around and acted like immature idiots? I guess so if the way Soda was eating his chips said anything. He shoveled chip after chip in his mouth so fast half of them fell on the floor, and then Two-Bit picked those up and ate them. Teenage boys were disgusting, and I cursed being the only female here. If Evie had come, Steve would act gentlemanly, and the rest of his friends would too, otherwise he'd punch them.

Poor Leroy. He wasn't with it enough to enjoy the immaturity, but at least he didn't look as sick as he did a minute ago. I watched him another fifteen minutes or so, and once I was sure he'd be okay, I retreated to my room, determined to stay there the rest of the night. Whatever they were doing was no longer fun to me. The only part of the evening I enjoyed was waiting for them to tease Leroy, but once it happened, I hated every minute of it and wished I could've convinced Steve not to invite his friends over in the first place.

I crawled into bed and burrowed my head in the pillow. I took deep breaths and tried to drown out the noise from the living room. It was useless, but at least I heard Leroy's laugh again and could be glad the sick feeling came and went for him. It probably wouldn't stay that way for long, but I hoped it would. I hoped he'd have a couple good memories of tonight for when he felt like shit tomorrow.

My heart raced, hearing a knock on my door.

I sat up, expecting to see Steve, but when the door opened, it was Ponyboy.

He took a step inside and leaned against the wall, fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. "Too loud for you?" he asked.

"Nah, just not much for me to do out there anymore," I answered honestly. "Steve wouldn't let me drink, and he probably doesn't want me out there anyway."

He shrugged and didn't attempt to refute what I said. I knew for a fact he had to endure Steve's hostile comments about him being annoying just as much, if not more, than I did. According to Steve the biggest nuisance was Soda liked to include Pony in a lot of the things they did; whereas, Steve never considered letting me do anything with him and his friends. Not that I wanted to. Maybe I did when I was young and stupid, but they were older than me, and from what I just saw, revolting.

"Well, the rest of us probably wouldn't mind if you get lonely," he said.

Glory, he really was a nice kid. The kind gesture almost convinced me to pull myself off my bed and head back into the action with him, but then I remembered the reason I came here in the first place and decided to stay. "Thanks," I managed finally. "I'm actually really tired, but I appreciate you … um, saying that and all."

"Hey, don't mention it," he said. "I know what it feels like to get left out. Sucks to be the youngest, huh?"

"It really, really does," I agreed.

"Be glad you only got one big brother instead of two." He smiled and stood there a second longer. I thought about what to say to him; a thank you to sticking up for Leroy seemed appropriate, but he left before I got the chance.

I lay back down on the bed and sighed. Man, Angela would've killed to be me a second ago with how set she was on making Pony her boyfriend, but the funny thing was, if she flirted with him, it'd ruin everything. She didn't understand that—that not every boy she played around with would fall for her madly. Maybe a lot of them did, but that was just because they were teenage boys and thought she was easy on the eyes.

Pony wasn't like that though. I knew because I didn't get the same gut-wrenching feeling I did around Larry and guys like him.

xxxx

It took a long time to fall asleep against their noise, but once I finally did, the sounds of puking woke me up.

I sprinted to the bathroom and stood outside the door. "Leroy?" I tapped the back of my hand against the door a couple times. "You okay in there?" I knew from the higher-pitched coughing and panting it was definitely him and not Steve.

"Fine," he mumbled, followed by an onslaught of puke hitting water.

I pushed my back against the wall and slid down it until I was seated. Leroy threw up several more times, and I buried my face in my hands, trying not to get sick from the sound alone.

Steve joined me on the floor a few minutes later, and I slowly looked up from my hands. "Your idiot friends gone?"

"Yeah, they left a bit ago."

"Good." I crossed my arms over my knees and sent him a particularly icy glare. "You shouldn't have done that."

"It ain't entirely my fault," he began in what would evolve into rounds of bullshit excuses.

"You invited them over."

"You agreed it was an alright idea."

I clenched my teeth, bitter he would even dare point a finger at me when I had been the one to trying to stop the downward spiral every step of the way. "Only because you suggested it, and I never thought you'd try an' get him drunk," I said. "Which, might I add, _I_ tried to stop."

"Well, I ain't responsible for the dumbass moves of my friends. That was Two-Bit's doing."

"Well, you're more responsible than me 'cause he ain't my friend," I pointed out. "And according to you, I'm always responsible for everything Angela does whether I do it or not, so maybe you should just admit this is kinda your fault too.

"God!" Steve snapped and slapped his hand down on the floor. "Leave it be. Does it even matter whose fault it is anymore?"

I nodded. It did matter because Leroy was feeling the harsh consequences of their actions.

"You know, he could've said no," Steve went on, still determined to prove me wrong. "I never told him he had to, and to be honest, I thought it was a bad idea from the get go, so lay off. It ain't my fault shit happened."

And there he went with more excuses… "If you knew it was a bad idea, why'd you let him?"

"Do I look like his babysitter?" Steve quipped. "He's gonna be fourteen, damn it. He can make his own decisions about whether he drinks or not."

My face flushed, and though this wasn't about me, I couldn't help but point out the double standard. "When I'm fourteen, will you say the same about me?"

Just as I suspected, Steve shook his head. "No, so don't you dare go gettin' any ideas."

"Perfect." I pushed my hands through my hair and groaned as loud as I could. "Another one of those because I'm a girl things, huh?"

"No."

"Don't lie." I clenched both fists until my nails dug into the palms of my hands and unclenched them slowly. "It _always_ is. I can't cuss, or smoke, or drink—"

"I never said you couldn't smoke," he broke in.

"Yeah, you did. At Aunt Rita's."

He shook his head. "I don't know what the hell you're taking about, kid."

"You gave me a cigarette and said it was a onetime deal!"

He studied me hard, carefully calculating his comeback. "Maybe I meant it was a onetime deal I'd give you one, and you'd have to buy your own damn pack next time."

"So …" I drawled out and thought about what he said for a second. "So, you'd be just fine if I went out and got a pack to smoke right now?"

He rubbed his forehead and gave me a pointed look. "This is stupid, alright? Forget it."

"No," I started again, prepared to fight him to the death on this, but the sounds of vomit broke up my thoughts, and my upset was replaced by nothing but worry. "Christ, I hope he's alright."

"Me too."

I turned, surprised to hear my brother agree, and when I met his eyes, I was even more surprised he looked genuinely concerned. He stood up and knocked on the door. "Leroy, you alright in there?"

"Yeah, fine." His response sounded pained and forced.

Steve jiggled the doorknob. "Hey, can you unlock the door?"

No reply. Just grunts and groans.

Steve waited minute or two before he walked away.

"Steve," I called after him. He couldn't just leave us like this.

He returned with a paperclip in his hand. "You're gonna pick the lock? Again?"

"Did it just fine the other night, didn't I?"

I huffed. "Maybe he wants to be left alone." I knew I would've rather been the other night, even if the outcome was eventually good, but that still didn't give Steve the right to just burst in there. "Steve, maybe we should just leave him be…"

"Would you rather he choked on his own puke and died in there?" Steve didn't wait for me to respond and wasted no time working the paper clip into the tiny keyhole. I had no idea what went into successfully picking a lock other than Steve was apparently good at it. He managed to get the door open in under a couple minutes.

We found Leroy on the floor, puking dripping off his chin. It was a horrible sight. He looked so scared, as though he thought he might be dying. I wanted to say something to him, but I had no idea what, so I stood back and let Steve do the talking.

"You think everything that's coming is out?" Steve asked him.

Leroy nodded.

Steve wet a washcloth under the sink and crouched down, handing it to Leroy. "Wipe your face off."

Leroy took it and listened right away. He tried to sit up and Steve pushed him back down. "Hey, take it easy here, man," Steve told him. "Julia, go grab a pillow and a blanket, will ya?"

I looked at him funny. "Why?"

"Just do it."

I stepped out the door and Steve returned his attention back to Leroy. As I went to get the requested items, I wondered why Steve was being this nice to him all of a sudden. It didn't make sense. The Steve I knew would've just left him there, but maybe he truly felt bad for whatever role he played and didn't want to admit it earlier.

I returned with both items and handed them to him.

"Alright, Leroy, you're gonna sleep on the floor here tonight in case you start puking again," Steve explained. "And when you sleep, make damn sure you're on your side and not your back, you got it?"

Leroy nodded.

"You need anything, you find me or her, okay?"

Leroy nodded again. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No," I said before Steve could say anything. Everything had gone smoothly up to this point, and Steve would ruin it if he answered that question. "Neither of us are, Leroy. We just want you to be okay."

"I feel so sick," he moaned.

"Well, that's what happens when you drink that much." Steve's voice was hardly comforting, but at least it wasn't a yell.

"I didn't have that much." Leroy pushed a hand to his forehead and sighed. "Wait, did I?"

"You drank about what I would on an average weekend night, so I'd say that's a bit much for you," Steve told him. "But that's not important right now. Get some sleep now, you hear?"

Tears began to drip down Leroy's cheeks. "Will I feel better when I wake up?"

Steve hesitated for a second before giving an answer. "Yeah, you will," he said and stood up.

I gave Steve an annoyed look. Leroy was definitely in for a hangover, but he shook his head at me to leave the issue alone. "Remember, lay on your side and not your back," he reminded Leroy once more and led me out of the bathroom.

"Why would you lie to him?" I asked as soon as we were out of earshot from the bathroom. "He's not gonna feel better. He'll probably have the worst headache ever tomorrow."

"And that'll make pleasant dreams for him while he's fighting the urge to puke?" Steve questioned. "You're the one who's all about being pleasant to him. What happened?"

I looked towards my feet. "I dunno." I expected the night to go bad, just not this bad, and pushed all of tonight's earlier worries to the front of my concerns.

Steve rested a hand on my shoulder. "Jesus, you're not gonna start freaking out on me now, are ya?"

"No. Just…" I didn't know what. The thoughts in my head were too jumbled to vocalize.

"Just what?"

"Nothin', it's just been a long night."

He gave me one heck of a look. "I told you once, I told you a thousand times, you're a terrible liar, kid."

I shook my head, but he saw right through it. "How 'bout I take a wild guess, huh? This is about Aunt Rita."

I grimaced and offered a weak nod. He knew me too well. It _was_ about her and ten other things, but mostly her—if Leroy said anything to her about tonight, everything would get a billion times worse.

"You think this shit with Leroy is gonna outrage her more, huh?" he asked.

I nodded again, tears almost reaching my eyes.

His jaw grew tight, and he raked a hand through his hair. "I already told you, I'm _not_ breaking any promises," he insisted. "Nothin' to cry over now, is there?"

"I'm not cryin'."

"Uh huh, sure."

"Steve," I whined. He didn't have to be a jerk if I couldn't help it.

"I'm not breaking any promises. How many times do I have to say it?" He pushed the hair that had fallen in my face out of my eyes. "I promise, Julia, alright? I _promise_."

He sounded so sincere, but then he stepped away from me and lit up a cigarette. "That good enough for you?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Well, at least he was acting like himself… "Can I have one?"

"No," he snapped and paused a moment to take a drag. "You get all weird on me, and then you change the subject by asking for a smoke? No way. You go to bed before I beat the tar outa you."

I nodded, but I didn't go. I stood there awkwardly until he could no longer stand it.

He sighed and pulled me into a one-armed hug. "For the last time, I promise everything'll be fine," he told me impatiently. "Now go to bed, you little shit."

From sounds of it, his insult was meant to be a term of endearment, so I took it as such. "Yeah, and after that cigarette, you better go to bed too, you … you asshole."

"That the best you got?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Little shit wasn't all that creative either."

"_Goodnight_, Julia," he said, almost sternly.

I might've argued with him more, but I couldn't deny I was tired. "Goodnight, Steve," I said and finally went.

xxxx

_Wednesday, November 23rd, 1966_

Steve and I ate our breakfasts in silence.

It was a school day, but neither of us were up in time, and once we were, Steve said nothing about school, so I assumed that meant he was okay with both of us skipping.

I got three fourths of the way through my cereal before Leroy emerged. He looked like hell, shielding his eyes with his hands to avoid the assaulting sunlight. "I don't feel better at all," he told Steve as he took a seat.

"It's called a hangover," Steve informed him. "It's your body's way of punishing you for being a dumbass."

"Don't listen to him," I piped up. "He's suffered his fair share."

Steve elbowed me, and I glared back. If he helped him get drunk, he didn't need to act so superior about it now that Leroy was nursing a hangover.

"Want breakfast?" Steve asked, pushing the box of cereal towards Leroy.

Leroy's face grew a shade paler. "No thanks. I … can't even think about food right now."

"Suit yourself." Steve poured more cereal into his bowl, and the rushing sound made Leroy cringe.

He sat there, hands pressed to his forehead, trying so hard not to cry.

He stayed quiet all morning, and me and Steve made no efforts to push him to talk.

I thought about saying something encouraging but remembered most people I knew liked to be left alone whenever they had hangovers.

xxxx

By afternoon, Leroy apparently felt like talking.

We'd started watching some daytime TV drama when he spoke the most words he'd said to us all day. "You know," he began. "I thought that would be a lot better than it was."

"Well, yeah," Steve said. "That's kinda why most people drink."

"No, I mean, if Charlie does it so often, I didn't think it could be so bad."

Steve and I looked at each other before glancing at him. He should've just left it as his first comment because Steve looked ready to punch him. "So," I started, hoping I could diffuse this before Steve lost his cool. "You did this 'cause Charlie does?"

Leroy didn't pick up on the tension and dug himself an even deeper hole. "Yeah, Mama said drinking's bad, but I figure if he does it all the time, it can't be too bad."

Steve whipped the contents off the end table onto the floor. A water glass shattered, and the lamp barely survived the fall, only to crack a second later when Steve shot up and kicked it across the room.

Leroy shook in the aftermath of the outburst, and even my heart rate rose. "Steve!" I scolded, but Steve silenced me with a glare and charged towards Leroy.

"So you did this because of that fucker?" he demanded, pulling Leroy up by his shirt. "You got drunk 'cause you wanted to be like _him_? Why?"

"Steve, c'mon, be reasonable here," I tried again, despite the anger in my brother's eyes. The last thing any of us needed was Leroy with a black eye when Aunt Rita showed up, which for all we knew could be seconds or hours away.

"That's the craziest fucking thing I've heard in a long time," Steve hissed. "If he's your role model, good luck making it to adulthood… Jesus, I knew you were dense, but I didn't know you were this retarded."

"Steve!"

"Shut up," he bellowed at me, and Leroy burst into tears.

"I don't … I don't know what I said," he struggled.

I gave Steve a look to let him know how pissed I was. It was all I could do. If his temper were under control, I'd have punched him or screamed colorful words at him, but I knew better than to outrage him more.

I ignored him scooted closer to Leroy. I patted his back and stared at Steve the entire time. Even though I agreed with Steve—Dad was no role model—that outburst was unnecessary. If anything, Steve should save all his anger for our old man himself, but with how volatile Steve could be, that was next to impossible.

It took Leroy a long time to calm down. He tried to talk to me, but it was mostly incoherent and jumbled. Steve had scared him good, and I thanked God no punches were thrown.

Surprisingly, Steve remained in the room. Face bright red and hands gripping the arms of the chair he sat in so tight his knuckles went white, he looked a moment away from another explosion, but somehow, he managed to stay in control long enough for Leroy to calm down.

It was the knock on the door that pushed Leroy into tears again, and when I realized who it was, I felt like joining him.

* * *

Apologies for another mean cliffhanger, but I assure you the update will be fast... Thanks for reviews thus far! I do hope you review again and that I haven't bored you yet. :)


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

According to stats, most of you read, so … I'll update early. :)

* * *

The first coherent thought that raced through my mind was no one bothered to clean up the mess Steve made.

Oh God, it looked terrible… She would jump over that immediately. I panicked and shuffled to my feet so fast it was a miracle I didn't trip headfirst on my way to the kitchen. Broom and dustpan in hand, I rushed back and swept up what I could of the glass, but the tiny shards slipped further and further between the carpet fibers no matter how hard I swept. I didn't once pause to think sweeping anything off carpet was a ridiculous idea and next to impossible; I just kept moving.

When the broom proved useless, I wiped the sweat off my brow and resorted to picking up the pieces with my bare hands.

"Stop it, you'll cut your hands," Steve scolded, grabbing me by my arm and yanking me up to my feet.

"But she's _here_," I protested. "Damn it, Steve, why did you do that? First Leroy and now this? Everything'll go to shit for sure!"

"Calm down," he ordered. "Nothing's goin' to shit if I can help it."

I glanced at Leroy who was still in tears and shook my head.

"Listen, Julia." His tone was even, not angry in the slightest and quite the contrast from just a few minutes ago. "We'll be fine, but you need to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

I couldn't think. I could hardly breathe, and my skin pinched from him squeezing my arm too tight, not to mention the person who'd just exploded was suddenly acting calm and collected. That alone was enough to throw me. "I dunno." I truly didn't know what to say. All I felt was panic surging through every inch of my body. My hands shook, my fingers tingled, my head felt heavy and light at the same time, and I was certain I'd pass out any minute now.

"You can." He loosened his grip on my arm but lingered near me. "Just stick by me. You don't have to say a word if you want. I'll do all the talking." His lack of anger _still_ confused me. I suppose he must've known he needed to stay in control of the situation in order for it to work. That was my only guess—that his stubborn determination was the only thing standing between him and another blow up.

Aunt Rita's fist rapped against the door again, and the sound echoed throughout the room, reminding us she was there. Steve took a few steps towards the door, and I trailed behind as closely as I could. She must've grown tired of waiting because the door burst open before he could open it, and she walked in with her usual grumpy demeanor, only this time it was amplified.

She glanced at all three of us but fixated on only Steve. "Where's your father?"

Steve shrugged. "If you find him, you tell me."

"He … he s-s-said he was looking for a job," Leroy stammered just above a whisper.

"For heaven's sakes, it's Thanksgiving tomorrow," Aunt Rita dismissed it immediately.

"Really?" Steve's tone rose ever so slightly, revealing the same inappropriate sarcasm that always made Aunt Rita jump out of her skin when we were little kids. "Well, thanks for clearing that up. I had _no_ clue."

She scrunched her nose at him and turned to Leroy. "What in the world are you crying for, Leroy?"

Leroy struggled to find words. The way she stared at him unnerved me, and in the heat of the moment, my mind fabricated a workable excuse for him that served a double purpose. "He accidentally knocked the lamp and glass off the end table." I pointed to the mess on the floor. "He's crying 'cause feels bad."

Leroy nodded. Apparently he saw merit in my excuse.

Aunt Rita scoffed at the mess and shook her finger at it. "And that's exactly why children shouldn't be left to their own devices."

I forgot how annoying she was when she was angry, the way air hissed through her teeth as she spoke and the way her shoulders rose an inch and slumped forward at the same time. My nerves demanded I burst out laughing at how ridiculous she looked, but I clamped my mouth shut, knowing that wouldn't end well for me or anybody in this room.

"You father oughta be ashamed of himself for even considering this." Her snapped back and forth between all three of us, even though Charlie was the one she was bitching about. "God knows what was going through his head."

Steve took a step towards her and stared her down. "I'd love to know what the hell you think gives you a right to be here." There was no fear in his voice or his stature, and I admired him in action, proud of his ability to stand up to her so fearlessly while I cowered away behind him. "Ain't like he's invited you down before," Steve added.

Her face took on a scowl only she could produce. "I'm here because three kids should never be left alone like this."

Of course she would play the noble card, and I waited anxiously for Steve's comeback to it.

"You didn't seem to have a problem making me babysit Julia while you went off to play bridge with church friends," he said, and my stomach dropped, realizing he intended to use me to prove all his points. I understood why, but it still didn't sit well with me.

"That was only for an hour of two," she defended herself promptly. "We're talking days here."

"I was eight." Steve leaned closer to her face and balled a fist. "If you wanna talk to me about responsibility, tell me why you consistently let an eight year old watch a toddler."

Aunt Rita's wrinkled face crinkled into a leathery mess the longer she stared at my brother. I focused on that to avoid jumping into their argument.

"I never once left you overnight or made you watch her more than a couple hours."

Steve twitched. He wanted to hit her so bad. If she was Dad or another man, she'd already have two black eyes, but held off, knowing an old lady was no were near a fair physical fight to him. "Bullshit," he said. "Even if you were around, you always made shit worse."

"Well, excuse me for trying to teach you two some manners 'cause your daddy couldn't do a good enough job of it on his own," she rattled on. "You had no respect for me or anyone, and she was always crying for attention."

"She wasn't cryin' for attention." He hooked an arm around my shoulder, pulled me into his side, and held me there as he spoke. "She was cryin' 'cause she was petrified of you and still is in case you didn't notice."

I remembered that better than I wanted to, how she'd punish me even more if I cried because she thought it was a show of disrespect to her somehow. She was a saint to me compared to Steve, and if I thought about it really hard, I could name a few times she was exceptionally nice to me, but the bad memories overshadowed all good. What Steve had referenced was the worst feeling in the world. It topped the list by far. I couldn't help fear and never once tried to make her more upset, but trying only lead to more tears, which put me in an endless cycle I couldn't break out of. Eventually I grew talented at holding it together when she talked to me, but I always broke down in front of Steve later. Without fail, I fell apart when I saw him.

Steve kept arguing with her, but I no longer registered what they were saying. My mind checked out as I leaned against Steve, trying to focus on the promises he made me. He wouldn't break them. I told myself that over and over again, and it brought some comfort, but I still grew light-headed and my knees started to buckle.

"Steve, I don't feel good," I said.

He stopped what he was saying immediately and turned to me. "What, Jule?"

"I don't feel good," I repeated.

"If you're sick, you should be in bed," Aunt Rita said.

She walked up to us and put her cold hand against my forehead. "No fever," she remarked as Steve shooed her away for daring to touch me in the first place. "She's probably fine and only eager for attention." She had a snide smirk on her lips as though she had to use this to prove him wrong.

"Nobody asked you," he snapped at her and turned back to me. "It's just nerves, Jule. Go sit down, okay?"

I reluctantly hobbled to the couch and curled up against the ledge.

Steve looked like he might kill her, but before he could get another word in, Leroy spoke up. "I wanna talk to you to in private, Aunt Rita," he said, wiping at his eyes.

I wondered what in the world for, but she nodded.

"Of course, dear." She gave Steve a dirty look, walked up to Leroy, and took his hand in hers. Once he was on his feet, he led her outside.

As soon as the door shut, all the tears I'd held in erupted out of me in giant waves. I folded my hands atop the couch ledge and buried my face in them.

Steve sat down beside me and lifted me into an embrace. "Whatever you're thinking, stop." His words made me jump, trying to think about what I had been thinking about. I couldn't remember. The tears were mostly from the memories I didn't want to remember, I think, but I couldn't be sure of it.

"I hate her," I whispered. "I really, really do."

"I'd be worried if you didn't." He held me close in one arm and ran the other up and down my back. "Just take a deep breath. She'll be gone soon, and I already promised you a million times I ain't goin' nowhere…"

I listened and took a deep breath, relaxing as best I could. Knowing she was still here bothered me, but Steve let me cry it out on his shoulder, and somehow that made it everything more tolerable and made his promises feel more real.

When she emerged with Leroy, I was calm enough I didn't jump.

"I'm taking Leroy and Julia back up to Kansas with me," she announced definitively. Hearing my name made my skin crawl.

_Steve promised_, I reminded myself. _He promised_.

"I don't think so," he said.

"Whether you think so or not, you're much too young to be looking after either of them."

"Julia, you should come," Leroy urged me. "She said we'd have a good Thanksgiving there."

I shook my head. "I wanna stay here."

"You heard her," Steve said firmly, and Aunt Rita saw red.

"It's not a matter of what she wants, it's a matter of what she needs, and whether she thinks so or not, she needs to be with me."

"In that case, what she really needs is for you to get the hell out of her so she can breathe again." Steve tightened his arms around me the same way he would when Dad walked into the room and he wanted to prove I liked him better. "She's been nothing but anxious since she heard you were coming, and it'd do everyone a world of good if you just left."

"Julia, honey, can I talk to you for a second?" Aunt Rita sounded like she was attempting to be amiable in order to win me over, but it didn't matter what she said, I wasn't leaving with her. She might've stood a better chance if she was nicer to me minutes ago instead of unexpectedly, but Steve still topped my list.

"Alone preferably?" she added.

"No," Steve answered for me.

"I asked her, not you."

"It don't matter what she says. I won't let her either way."

Aunt Rita huffed an awful sigh. "So you're just going to keep Thanksgiving from your little sister by keeping her here?"

"Yeah, I am," Steve said, not falling for the guilt ploy. "And I think she'll be pretty goddamned thankful for it too." He was right. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, he was the only one I was truly thankful for in the room.

"Julia, please," Leroy begged me. "I don't wanna go alone."

His plea almost got to me, almost made me guilty, but I didn't budge from the safety of Steve's arms. "I wanna stay here," I repeated to make it absolutely clear.

"Leave," Steve growled under his breath.

Either there was something in the way he said it or she'd simply given up on patience, but she helped Leroy pack up his things and hurried him along.

I teared up a bit as we watched them pack, wondering when and if we'd see Leroy next. He still annoyed me, but the sudden departure felt wrong, and I worried about how he'd fare with Aunt Rita on his own. I guess it was what he wanted, but I couldn't help but wonder or feel the slightest bit sorry for him.

When the door shut and they were officially gone, Steve nudged my arm. "I'm proud of you."

I pulled away and gave him a puzzled look. "Why? I did nothing but cry, and you … you did all the talking."

"All things considered, you did pretty good," he insisted.

I still had no idea why he felt that way. Maybe he expected me to freak out the way I had before he demanded I calm down? I didn't know, but one thing was for sure: it felt amazing to hear.

He never said stuff like that, so he must've meant it.

xxxx

_Sunday, November 27__th__, 1966_

Thanksgiving came and went.

To me and Steve, it was just an ordinary day with no special meals. Neither of us would've known how to cook one, but it wasn't too bad. While Leroy was back in Kansas with Aunt Rita, we got to stay here and do our own thing. We got along too. For the next couple days, we hardly fought with each other at all.

Dad came home Saturday morning and apologized to us both profusely but offered no explanation as to where he'd gone. We told him about Leroy. He made several frantic phone calls to Aunt Rita, but she hung up on him every single time. I'd feel bad for Dad if it weren't for the fact brought every ounce of emotional pain on himself this time. On Saturday night he finally revealed where he'd gone, and the revelation was nothing short of awful—he spent Thanksgiving with Rosie's family in an effort to win her back. She always begged for him to be friendlier with her family; every year she begged him to go to holiday functions with her, and every year he turned her down until now. I wasn't sure who I was more surprised at for taking the other back, but the weekend had ended in total disaster despite every effort he made. Lying about having a job on the line was his biggest mistake.

Steve didn't talk to him after that, and me? I did but barely. To think he would choose her over us was a low blow, but he didn't see it that way. If his own words: "We never did the holidays much anyway, so I never thought you'd miss me." Well, perhaps we didn't miss him necessarily, but it was the principle of the matter. You didn't do that to your kids and expect them to forgive you right away. It just didn't work like that.

By Sunday night, tensions were high, and I figured the evening would end in one of two ways: Steve would get kicked out or Dad would take off again. Luckily it ended up being the second. Both of them had black eyes from the fight, but Steve won, and it was back to me and him again, which was a relief, but also concerning.

"Steve?" I worked up the courage to speak to him. I already had asked him the same question I was about to ask, but he was notorious for not giving me a straight answer. "How long do you think he'll be gone this time?"

Steve groaned. "For the last time, I ain't a mind reader or a fucking superhero."

Jeez, I'd only asked him once or twice, and only because I was curious. I didn't mean any harm. Part of me hoped it'd last a long time, but the other worried about him. Once again, we had absolutely no clue where he'd gone whatsoever. He still had no job, but apparently he found money to stay away from home and drink. I couldn't say for sure that was what he was doing, but I had a damn good idea it might be.

"You should go to bed," Steve told me impatiently. "School tomorrow."

He was probably more annoyed with my questions than worrying whether or not I went to bed on time, but I listened anyway. We'd been getting along, and there was no need to jynx it now.

I secured the bathroom to myself, so I could do everything I needed to do, but instead of taking a shower right away, I wasted a lot of time in front of the mirror, examining the onslaught of pimples all over my face. They were really bad this time, worse than they'd ever been. Two of them were deep under my skin and perhaps more painful than they were ugly. I tried in vain for several minutes to pop them, trying to relieve the horrible pinching sensation from all the pressure, but no matter how hard I squeezed, they wouldn't pop, so I gave up and decided to take the shower I wanted in the first place.

I turned the water on and slipped out of my clothes, but before I got in, something caught my eye. I turned and picked up my underwear, praying what I'd seen was just an illusion. _Please God, not now_, I pleaded with the forces of the universe. _Not. Right. Now._ But nature did what it wanted to do.

The blood stain wasn't an illusion, it was real, and suddenly I felt like an idiot for ignoring the wet sensation that had been slowly building between my legs over the past hour.

I panicked. Logically I knew it was nothing to freak out about. This happened to every girl eventually, and Angela had certainly forewarned me, but nothing prepared you for the actual moment. _Nothing_.

For the first time in a very long time, I wished Rosie were here.

* * *

I hope it didn't seem too sappy. In this situation, it seemed appropriate… to me at least. I also hope the implication of the cliffhanger was obvious enough. The vast majority of my readers are women, right? Yeah ... you'll get it. :)

Please review! I need your validation like an addict needs a drug. ;) There's also the added benefit for you that I'll update faster… :D


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I could deal with this.

I _could_.

I took a deep breath and fixated on that thought. Every female everywhere had to deal with this, so I could too. If periods were the end of the world, half the population would die. I needed to calm down and not worry about it because it was out of my control. This was nature's fault. Nature said I had to get one, and that was all there was to it, but positive thoughts could only do so much to stop the panic. I took another deep breath and tried to think realistically. Okay, so maybe it was awful, but I still had to do something about it. Crying wouldn't solve anything, except making me more upset.

Besides, I was panicking when solutions were probably right in front of me. Somewhere in the bathroom there _had_ to be leftover feminine products from Rosie. She lived here for many years, so equaled a lot of periods, right? Glory, she must've had thousands of them. There had to be something here to get me through this one. I tore through every drawer and searched the bathroom head to toe. I even searched the same places three times and still came up with nothing. At least nothing useful. Just a bottle of nail polish, a tube of lipstick, scented lotion, and a thousand bobby pins, all of which were scattered across the tile flooring now. These were the sole evidence a female may have lived here at some point.

My only saving grace was toilet paper, which had so far done me no good. It wasn't as easy as just wiping the blood away. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be—that was how periods worked to my knowledge; you bled until it was over—but this didn't seem normal. It was like I was dying. Whoever designed periods was evil, because no matter what I did,_ I … just … kept_ … _bleeding_. Exactly how much blood was there supposed to be? I mean, it wasn't gushing out of me, but would it? What other awful things were in store for me? Was I supposed to do something to make it stop or did it just stop on its own?

At a loss for anything else, I threw a towel on the floor, sat on it, and curled my legs up to my chest. I remained that way for a long time and let the shower run. Must've been several minutes now; the steam had grown suffocating, but I couldn't bring myself to shut it off. If I let it run, I could buy myself enough time to figure out what to do with myself while leaving Steve under the guise I was taking the world's longest shower.

Seeing as every girl in the universe got periods, you'd think there must be some kind of instinct in your brain that kicked in and showed you how to deal with it. I guess that was what I was waiting for. I waited and waited and waited, and it never came.

The pitter patter of trickling water grew louder and served as a constant reminder my time was limited, a reminder that Steve would get suspicious, and he was the last person on the face of the planet who needed to know. God, why couldn't I have just been born a boy? They didn't have to deal with this bullshit, and I felt even unluckier. Other girls, probably most of them, at least had mothers to help them. I had nobody. Dad was out of the question, and though I'd talk to Steve about a lot of things, not this one. He'd never understand. Once I overhead him and a friend joke that they thought PMS was just a woman's excuse to act bitchy once a month, so he would probably make fun of me for being so emotional right now. And even if I could talk to him, I wouldn't. It was just … embarrassing. You didn't talk to you brother about things like this. If I had a sister, it might be different, but the thought of talking to Steve about this made me more nauseous than I already was. I should've never joked about getting my period on the way to Kansas either. It wasn't funny anymore.

No, it was miserable. _I_ was miserable.

There was a dull pressure in my lower abdomen that ached like crazy, and my stomach knotted into a uneasy mess. Maybe it was just nerves. I didn't know. I knew nothing. Sure, Angela had told me all the unpleasant details, but I apparently didn't listen close enough—I just remembered willing myself to die and praying I'd be a lucky exception to the natural order of female development.

As it turned out, I was an exception, but not in the way I wanted to be. I mean, I didn't have boobs yet! If I had to get my period I should at least have breasts that didn't look like tiny lumps, damn it, but I guess my body felt otherwise. I felt slighted. This was bullshit, really. If I were gonna be an exception to some rule it should've been getting my period older than the average age, not getting my periods when my boobs were microscopic. Sure, my chest wasn't completely flat anymore, but these? They weren't boobs. If I tried to buy a bra, the sales clerk would laugh at me. They'd point to the little girl's section and tell me to shop there instead, but little did they know, I'd just become a woman.

Would I ever look like a woman though? That was the scary thought. Maybe this meant I'd be boobless forever. Some women were more blessed than others, after all, but glory, I did _not_ look like I should have my period.

"Julia!" Steve rammed his fist against the door. My time was up.

_Shit, shit, shit_. I shot up and wrapped a towel around myself, remembering the bathroom lock had an annoying tendency to fail.

"What the hell's taking you so long?" he demanded. "For Christ's sakes, this shower's probably cost us a whole dollar already. You better be done soon."

I turned off the water to appease him, only for a new problem to arise: my crying. I held my breath and sucked my tears inside me in hopes he wouldn't hear me, but he did. His footsteps never trailed away from the door. "You okay?" he asked.

No, I was screwed. Whenever I emerged, he'd notice my hair wasn't wet; not to mention, the towel on the floor was soaked in blood. Well, maybe not soaked, but there was blood. Enough he'd wonder about it.

"I'm fine," I said back, but my voice broke, making it painfully obvious I was upset.

"You've been in there a long time," he said. "What's goin' on? And so help me if you tell me nothin', 'cause I can hear you cryin' in there."

I couldn't think of an answer, so I didn't reply.

"Julia, this is ridiculous."

He jiggled the knob and banged his fist against the door again.

"Don't come in," I said, desperately trying to buy myself more time. "You, uh, you just can't!"

Within seconds he'd kicked the door open.

I clutched the towel around me tighter, making sure it covered everything, and stared at him in hopes he'd just know I needed him to leave me alone.

He crossed his arms and gave me a look. "Jesus Christ, you didn't even take a shower, did you?"

I hesistated. "I, um, I … yeah, I did."

"Your hair ain't even wet."

"Well, I didn't wash it this time…"

"That's a lot of fucking goddamned water to waste if you weren't showering. What the hell were you doing?"

My eyes veered down to the bloody towel on the floor, and I cringed, realizing the evidence was nowhere near hidden. I looked up in time to catch him looking down.

His eyes widened. "You cut yourself or something?"

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," I choked out between my tears.

He glanced at the towel again and then at me, and from his expression, I think he got it. My face paled, and I felt light-headed. I think he grew three shades paler too.

"You didn't…" He pointed to it and backed himself up a ways out of the door. "That's from…" he started again, but couldn't finish. "Oh, for fuck's sakes." He tossed his hands in the air and bolted out of the room.

So that was it? That was all he was gonna say about it? I should be glad he was leaving, but now I felt let down that he wouldn't even try and help me. I told myself not to get upset about it. I didn't want him to know about this in the first place, but what was I supposed to do?

He paced back towards the bathroom. "Get dressed."

"What…?" I struggled. "Why?"

"Just do it," he told me. "And figure out a way not to bleed on my car while you're at it."

"Steveee, I don't wanna go anywhere. Not right now…" I rubbed at my eyes, trying to stop crying, but I couldn't. I cried harder. "Can't you just get me some pads or something and bring them back?"

"No." He didn't get it; he just seemed irritated.

"I can't go anywhere," I repeated myself. "I … I feel like I'm dying!"

"You're not dying."

"Well, it damn well feels like it!"

He shook his head at me, the grin telling me he was amused now.

I shifted my gaze back to the floor, noticing a tiny stream of blood dripping down my leg. I shoved my legs together and blushed. "Just get me some feminine products or something," I begged him. I wasn't even sure what kind to ask for. "I'll … I'll let you blackmail me for the rest of eternity for any reason you want. Just grab anything from that part of the store."

"You should be careful want you offer me, kid."

"Goddamn it, Steve, it ain't funny!" I gripped the towel under one arm and shoved him further out the door with the other.

"Can't you just …" He trailed off and grew visibly more frustrated. "I mean, you really need that? You can't just bleed on something else?"

"Of course I need them!"

He ran a hand through his hair and gave me an uneasy look. "Do you have any fucking idea how embarrassing it'd be for a guy to buy … you know … ?"

He couldn't be serious. He could endure the one minute of agony to get me something I desperately needed. God, he was stupid. At least his ignorance was good for one thing—stopping my tears, because now I was way too hacked to cry. "Do you have any idea how horrible it is to bleed without them?"

"Okay, I get it."

"Then go get me something."

He stared at me, still horrified at the thought.

"_Please_," I added.

"Alright, alright," he said, but he lingered near the bathroom a moment longer. "Just promise me you won't be completely certifiable when I get back? And you owe me huge."

"Go!" I roared at him and slammed the door.

His footsteps scampered away, and I resumed my seat on the towel, praying he wouldn't take an eternity, or worse, decide he wouldn't bring me anything.

xxxx

In the time he was gone, I went from a wreck to a complete disaster. I shoved the towels in a hamper and managed to put my clothes back on, so I'd have more to cover me than just a towel, but knowing my underwear and skirt would be drenched in blood scared me. He would see it, and that would make this experience more embarrassing than it already had been.

I heard the front door open and Steve cursing random strings of words to himself. The footsteps sounded like more than one person, and I almost died on the inside. If he brought one of his friends here, I'd kill him.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Julia."

"Did you get them?" I asked. "Just set them by the door and leave me alone."

"God, Steve, she locked herself in the bathroom? The hell did you tell her?"

Evie's voice. Oh praise God, a female.

"I dunno," he spat. "All I know is I ain't dealing with this anymore."

"Yeah, as damn well you shouldn't," she said, clearly annoyed with him. "Why don't you go have a beer or something before you traumatize the poor girl anymore?"

"It's just her period," he grumbled. "Jesus."

"Excuse me?" she demanded. I wasn't sure I'd ever heard her quite so pissed. "If you ever had one, you'd be bawling like a baby. Go have that drink before you have half a mind to say anything else stupid."

He groaned and stomped away.

"Hey, Julia, can I come in?"

"Is he gone?" I double-checked.

"Mhmm."

I wiped the last few tears off my cheeks and opened the door for her. "Thanks," I said weakly.

"No need, your brother is clearly an idiot."

I swallowed. "Maybe I kinda overreacted though," I told her. "I mean—"

"No, you didn't," she stopped me right away. "Steve's just an idiot. All guys are when it comes to this sort of thing."

She reached in her purse and pulled out a handful of things that looked like long pads. "Here," she said, handing them to me. "This should get you through tonight and most of tomorrow. I told Steve he has to give you some money to buy more tomorrow. He said he would, so you make sure he does that, or I'll kick his ass for you, sound fair?"

I nodded. I knew I liked her for a reason.

"How do I, um… How do they work?" I asked her sheepishly.

Thankfully she didn't make me feel awkward about asking. She just answered the question. "Here, you'll need this too." She handed me something that looked kind of like a thin belt with clasps in the front and back. "You wear that around your hips. You just hook the pads in each end and toss them away when you need to. That's all there is to it."

I eyed it suspiciously. Angela never talked about anything like this. She said she used something called tampons, but the idea of having to put something inside of me seemed horrifying.

"I'll, um, I'll be right back." I scurried to my room with the supplies she'd given me and shut the door. I got undressed and did exactly as she said. I adjusted the belt so it wouldn't slip off me and hooked one of the pads in it. God, it felt bulky and uncomfortable, but maybe I just wasn't used to it, and it was a million times better than bleeding all over everything.

I slipped a nightgown on and stepped out of the room. Evie was standing by the door. She walked into my room, so I followed her and sat down beside her on my bed.

"You got any questions about anything?" she asked me.

I did. I had millions, but even though she was a girl, this was awkward. I shook my head.

"Your brother ain't gonna be any help to you," she went on. "I'll tell you that much, so if you wanna know anything, you should probably ask now."

Well, she was right about that. Steve was next to worthless when it came to female stuff.

I sighed and gave in. I asked how long it was supposed to last, and when she told me anything from a few days to a little over a week, I blushed, hoping mine would be short, especially if it stayed painful. I asked about that next. She told me it was common to get cramps and I could take aspirin for them if I wanted, which I definitely would if it stayed this uncomfortable.

I didn't ask her much more. Anything else I could think of was just a lament that I had to have a period, but she seemed to understand that too. She said boys were lucky and didn't understand just how inconvenient it was. We talked for a long time about how stupid boys were, and it was just nice to know I wasn't alone. According to her every girl understood the struggle, and when I tried to thank her again, she wouldn't accept it and said there was an unwritten rule that said girls had to help each other out when it came to periods. Thank God for that. I'd never try to make Steve or any other boy understand it ever again. I told her about what Steve said to me before she came, about how he asked if I could just make do without anything and refused to buy anything. She seemed amused and irritated at him at the same time.

When he finally reared his ugly head again, he stood back, not daring to enter the room. He stared at Evie, as if to ask her if everything went okay. She sighed and got up. "I'll go talk to him," she told me, which I was glad for. For some reason it just felt strange to be within ten feet of Steve right now.

"She ain't gonna freak out on me or anything if you leave?" he asked her.

She slapped his cheek, not hard, but enough to let him know she was on her last nerve. "God, Steve, try to be a little more understanding about this. It's hard for girls their first time, okay?"

"I understand," he said. "I just don't see why it's the end of the world."

"She was actually pretty calm when I talked to her," Evie pointed out. "If you hadn't freaked her out, she'd have probably been fine for you too."

"She told me she thought she was dying!"

She shook her head at him. "I'll bet anything you'd say the same thing if you ever had a period…"

He grimaced as she spoke. Any time either of us said the word period or anything related to it, he looked visibly uncomfortable.

Evie rolled her eyes at him and walked up to me again. "If you have any more questions about anything, you let me know," she told me. "And you let me know if he gives you any more hell too. You hear that, Steve?"

She turned to him and lifted an eyebrow.

He hooked an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, babe," he growled as he led her away, as though it was truly painful for him to admit he needed her help on this one.

He took her home and returned within a half hour. I expected him to avoid me like I was diseased for the rest of the night, but he entered my room uninvited and sat down next to me. He didn't say anything; he just wrapped an arm around my shoulder, which I guess was supposed to be a nonverbal apology for being such an asshole about it.

I couldn't help but rub it in his face a little. "So whenever you told me you knew everything, you lied , 'cause you don't know the first thing about periods."

"I'm a guy. I know that everything says I shouldn't know anything."

"That's still part of everything," I persisted.

"Fine, you win." Everything about him said he didn't want to argue about it anymore for fear I might say the word period again.

I let the joy of my victory sink in before I said anything else, but the joy was short-lived when we heard Dad stagger in. I guess he'd only intended to be gone the evening tonight. It was relieving to know he was home, but at the moment I was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. He always made so much noise when he was drunk.

"What the hell's with the huge mess in here?" he called out, and I could only assume he'd seen the bathroom.

Steve and I both got up. When we reached the bathroom, Steve shoved me behind him and explained I'd gotten my period. I thought I could die right then, but even in Dad's drunken state, the anger melted away and he hugged me. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he hugged me. You could tell from the way he spoke he'd dreaded this day ever since my mother died.

"It's okay," I told him, wishing he'd let go and let me go to bed.

"You sure?"

I nodded, and he released me finally.

"Rosie should've been here to help you," he said. "I'm sorry I screwed everything up with her. I'm sorry she ain't here still." All his words slurred together, and his eyes were glossy, like he might cry. The alcohol had removed any filter and now he was rambling on and on and on about Rosie.

"It's okay," I interrupted him. "Steve's girlfriend helped me."

"No, it ain't okay." He was yelling now, loud enough to walk the neighbors. "She was supposed to come back. After this weekend, she told me she would. She was gonna come back so you could have a mother, but I never should've left you two alone, 'cause she's a lying bitch!"

So that was why he'd gone, so she could be a part of my life again. He had to realize by now I didn't want her to be a part of anything I did, but at least he had good intentions, and the realization sent me straight into tears. I didn't know how to handle it after tonight. It was easier to just be pissed at him, and I still was pissed at him, because this had to be one of the stupidest reasons he'd ever done something.

"Dad…" I started, trying to find the right words.

Steve stood next to me, looking ready to punch Dad at a moment's notice.

Dad took a step away from us, swayed and almost fell over. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was more drunk than even his usual drunk.

"Damn it, Charlie, just go to bed," Steve hissed at him.

Dad got his hands on Steve's shoulders and thrust him against the wall. "Don't you tell me what to do!"

I watched them and cried harder. Usually when Dad was angry, he just stayed angry. He didn't waver back and forth like this, and it scared me something awful.

Steve shoved himself out of Dad's grip and knocked him to the ground. Dad tried to get up, but Steve lunged forward and punched him as hard as he could multiple times. Something in Steve had snapped. I'd never seen him quite like this.

Dad didn't fight back. He'd gone completely limp, but Steve didn't seem to notice.

"Steve, stop it." I got both my arms around Steve's shoulders and pulled with all my might. "Steve, you'll hurt him!"

Steve stopped then, but Dad still didn't get up.

"Charlie…" Steve drawled out. He leaned down and slapped his face a few times. "Goddamn it, Charlie."

He grabbed Dad's shoulders and shook him, but when he let go, Dad fell back down. "Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Why the hell would you do that?" I demanded and knelt down beside Dad. I pressed my ear to his chest—he was still breathing, but wouldn't wake up. "I can't believe you, Steve… That was … I can't even."

"I didn't mean to hit him that hard…" He looked as horrified as I did. "Honest, I didn't."

"Is he okay?" I looked at him. His chest rose up and down, but his breaths were shallow.

Steve pressed his fingers to Dad's wrist and waited a moment. He grew more and more frustrated and slapped Dad across the face harder this time, but Dad didn't respond to it.

"Steve … ?"

"Call an ambulance."

I hesitated for a moment. Steve couldn't have really hurt Dad, could he? They did this all the time… Dad was just too drunk to handle it this time. That was all. He'd come to it in a minute.

"Go," Steve bellowed at me, and I didn't waste a second more.

Maybe this time it really was serious.

* * *

Now that the chapter is over and I haven't spoiled any of the fun details... _**HUGE**_ thanks to my boyfriend's aunt for giving me all the research help I needed where periods in the 1960's were concerned. Personally I found it interesting, albeit horrifying, so I thought I'd share my findings with you. ;) As represented in this chapter, most women wore menstrual belts with, thankfully, disposable pads. Decades earlier you had to wash all the rags by hand. Yikes! In the early 70's, just a wee bit after the setting of this fic, adhesive pads became the new norm. Tampons were around and primitive versions of them were actually used in ancient societies (Yay Google!), but according to my real life resource, it was believed only married women should wear them. It was taboo and frowned upon for virgins because it could apparently unvirginate them. I figured Angela, being the little rebel she is, might realistically want to break this societal norm, but Julia… probably not. Just a couple years later, that all changed with Title IX in 1972 opening up sports to females. Can you imagine playing sports wearing those hideous belt things? Google images for your own enjoyment. Anyway, that's probably more about periods than you wanted to hear, but … in case you were curious, there you have it!


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: Hinton owns; I borrow.

I hope I'm not updating too soon here, but that was an especially mean cliffhanger, so I figured those of you who read _should _get a quick update... Thanks for reading, reviewing, and generally putting up with my bullshit. I promise one day I'll write a chapter without a cliffhanger as a thank you, but until then accept my undying gratitude as an apology? And this fast update? And the likely fast update after that? ;)

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Everything happened fast.

The ambulance came, and a couple paramedics rushed Dad into the back of the vehicle.

Another stayed in the house and asked Steve what happened. Somehow he managed to remain composed, a feat I couldn't have pulled off, and explained Dad'd staggered home drunk and passed out, adding he wasn't sure but thought Dad had gotten into a fight before he came home. His composure paid off too; they believed him. Hell, I wanted to believe him too—I wanted so badly to believe his convincing act was real, but I knew what happened. I _watched_ it, and the shock hadn't worn off; the image of my brother wailing on our Dad's limp body would stick with me for a long time. Still, I couldn't out the secret. Even though he'd injured Dad, maybe severely, my loyalty was still to him. For all I knew, he could get arrested for what he'd done, and I think that scared me the most, maybe even more than wondering about Dad's condition.

The ride to the hospital was painfully quiet. In the privacy of his own car with me as his only witness, Steve looked scared; he knew he'd fucked up, and though it was tempting to berate him about it, I didn't. He didn't need that, not when we were both worried sick. That didn't mean I wasn't pissed though. He took it too far this time—way, _way_ too far—and if Dad sustained any permanent damage, it might take me a while to forgive him. The possibility of it happening just didn't seem real yet.

Steve broke the silence about a block away from the hospital. "Quit lookin' at me like that." He jerked his head around and flashed a nasty glare.

He'd lost his mind. I'd maybe glanced at him twice since we started driving. "I ain't lookin' at ya, I'm starin' at the road," I said, my accent coming through stronger than usual. That always happened when I was tired, stressed, angry, or in this case, all three. It was late, I'd just gotten my period, and my brother had to go and not only between the shit out of our dad but knock him unconscious too.

"Well, quit … whatever the hell you're doin'. You're making me nervous."

"_I'm_ making you nervous?"

He gave a harsh nod.

This time I did glare at him. So much for vowing not to berate him. "You know, you don't have to get pissy with me 'cause _you_ fucked up."

He pointed a finger at me and shook it. "Don't … don't cuss," he hammered out, once again favoring to scold me for swearing instead of addressing the real issue. He always did that—found one thing wrong with something I said, so he could harp on me about that and ignore his own wrongdoings.

I rolled my head back to staring out the window and felt a sharp jab in my arm a moment later. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

I whipped around and stared at him with so much venom in my eyes, forgetting to be afraid he might lose it on me too. "I'll say whatever I damn well please."

He put his hand back on the steering wheel and kept his head locked forward. His knuckles had gone white, and I swore I might meet my death as we pulled into the hospital parking lot, but he just parked the car and growled at me to get out. I listened. My anger still surged, but I was smart. I realized now was not a good time to argue with him, and though I doubted he'd knock me unconsciousness, I learned a long time ago there were certain moments you just shouldn't mess with his temper. This was definitely one of them. It was a miracle I'd been able to say as much as I had.

He booked it towards the emergency room doors, and I struggled to keep up behind him. Still in my nightgown, I had to hold the excess fabric at my sides to be sure the wind wouldn't blow it up and reveal to the entire world I had my period. One look at the belt thing Evie'd given me, and they'd all know. Steve took a few steps back and grabbed my arm. "C'mon," he said and pulled me alongside him, far gentler than I expected.

When I saw the expression on his face, I understood why; he'd reached a point where he was worried enough, anger was no longer his first reaction.

As soon as we walked through the doors, we were sent to a waiting room almost immediately. Steve sat down on a bench. He propped his elbows on his knees and shoved his face into his hands. I stood back and watched him for a while, wondering if he could maybe be crying beneath his hands, but when he pulled them away from his face and patted the spot next to him for me to sit down, I saw he wasn't. There were a few droplets of sweat on his forehead, but no tears. I breathed a small sigh of relief, unsure if I could handle seeing him cry. Then tension almost made me wish he'd stayed angry.

I crawled up next to him down, folded my legs off to the side of me, and made sure the nightgown draped over them. God, periods were uncomfortable. I shifted my legs into at least five different positions before finding something tolerable.

I think Steve took it as a sign I was anxious and crisscrossed his arms around me. "You know I didn't mean to have any of this happen, right?" he said quiet enough that only I could hear him

He sounded less cross than in the car, which cast a sense of calm over me. It was awful. Even if he was upset about something he'd done, I hated to be around him when he was like that. I tried to just ignore it, but sometimes it was too hard not to be affected by it.

"Yeah, I know," I finally replied, and he held onto me tighter.

His arms were tense and breaths labored. Even though he wouldn't admit it, I sensed he was trying to comfort himself more than me, and thinking about that almost caused a breakdown. My eyes were wet, but I managed to keep the tears at bay. I just focused on my breathing to relax my nerves and rested my head against his chest because I think it helped him to think he was consoling me, and it hit me that I lied when I said I wouldn't be able to forgive him. I already had.

"He'll be okay," I assured Steve. "He's probably done worse things to his body."

Oddly that got a small laugh out of Steve. I didn't expect it, but it was good to hear.

"He's been doin' a lot of frustrating stuff lately," I added. "Don't mean it was right, but at least you had a reason."

Steve didn't respond to that, but he seemed less tense as time passed, even though we'd been forced to wait a long time with no word on our dad's condition. Eventually I fell asleep, and Steve had to nudge me awake when the doctor came.

"You Charles Randle's relatives?" the man asked.

"I'm his son," Steve spoke up.

The doctor let out a small sigh. That couldn't be good. "He's stable now," he informed us. "Boy, your father is one lucky man."

He went on to explain his breathing got so shallow, his heart stopped beating a few seconds, and I wondered why no one had informed me or Steve until now, but I guess if they were busy attending to him, how could they? Still, it felt wrong, and I could tell Steve was upset about it.

The doctor also remarked the amount of alcohol in his blood was one of the highest he'd ever seen, and he was stunned Dad was alive, let alone conscious again. According to him once Dad sobered up, all he had to worry about now were a couple broken ribs.

Steve didn't say anything to that. He just looked at me, and I knew what he was thinking—he was the broken rib culprit—but he took a deep breath, thanked the doctor for his help, and asked if we could see Dad.

The doctor gave us the room number, and Steve couldn't get there fast enough.

We arrived just as a nurse was checking his vitals. We stood back and let her do her work. She asked him several questions—how old he was, who the president was, stuff that any idiot should know—and when he answered them correctly, she asked if he could explain what happened to him. I guess that was the next step. The story Steve gave the paramedics wasn't much to work with, and Dad's anxiousness only increased everyone's anxiety.

She had to ask three times before he finally gave her an answer that wasn't a grunt. In those thirty seconds or so, my heart rate skyrocketed, wondering if he would say it was Steve. He didn't mind throwing Steve under the bus in most situations, so it seemed possible he'd betray him now, but the first words that came out of his mouth were, "I don't remember, ma'am."

Whether that was the truth or he was trying to protect his son, I didn't know.

"Maybe hadda lil' too much to drink, got in a fight, went on home, and I jus' kinda blacked out," he added a moment later.

"Approximately how many drinks did you have tonight, sir?"

"Maybe five or six-ish."

If his heart stopped momentarily, it was way more than that. Even if that hadn't happened, the way he slurred his words and barely followed her when she spoke told me it was way more than five or six.

"You know, I honest to God don't remember, ma'am." He shook his head back and forth furiously. "I'm sorry. I should, but I don't recollect much."

She forced a small smile. "Well, you're a very lucky man, Sir."

"I am," he agreed. "You know, these here are my kids. They're good kids." He took my hand and squeezed it. He tried to grab Steve's hand too, but Steve kept his arms folded across his chest.

"I'm sure they are."

"You bet they are," he told her proudly as she moved to leave. "I love them a lot."

I cringed at his words. He was still under the effects of his condition, so I wasn't sure I could believe the sincerity, but he kept talking like he really, really wanted this lady to understand this.

She nodded and forced the same smile. "I'll be back in a minute, sir," she said and exited the room.

Steve wandered to the edge of the room and leaned against the wall.

Dad kept squeezing my hand and motioned for Steve to come to his bedside with his free hand.

Steve sighed but gave in with no verbal complaints.

"I ain't gonna tell them it was you," Dad whispered to him, though it was hardly a whisper. "I promise I won't."

"I know." Steve unfolded his arms and put a hand on Dad's shoulder. "You already didn't."

"But I won't," Dad went on, just as desperate for Steve to know this as he was for the nurse to know he loved us. "Not even if they bring an officer in here to question me."

"I know, Dad." By the expression on Steve's face, I could tell he caught his slip up in forgetting to call Dad Charlie, but he made no attempts to correct himself. "I believe you."

Dad looked content and rested his eyes. I watched his chest rise and fall anxiously, hoping his breathing would stay normal now. The nurse returned and checked Dad's vitals again. When she was finished, she turned to me and Steve. "I think it might be best if y'all leave and let him get his rest."

"He doin' alright?" Steve asked.

"Exceptionally good for how he was," she said with a somewhat awed expression, which told me Dad truly had been lucky.

"Children really shouldn't be here past visiting hours." She glanced at me in particular. I guess, I looked out of place, standing there in my pajamas.

"Sorry for bringing her here," Steve told her. "I'd have left her home, but she was really worried about him."

She didn't question his answer but still insisted we leave.

He agreed, saying I needed my sleep and thanked her for her help the same he had the doctor earlier. Sometimes he truly could put on a convincing act he was a lot older than seventeen, and it was a good thing because it just hit me the doctors and nurses had plenty reason to believe our father was an unfit father now.

I asked Steve about that on the way home. He told me not to worry about it, but it was all I could think about as I fought to keep my eyes open. I couldn't deny he was irresponsible, but the thought of living with any of his relatives again was so much worse than continuing to put up with his bullshit.

xxxx

_Monday, November 28__th__, 1966_

When I woke up the next morning, I felt disgusting and realized though last night's chaos, I'd forgotten to take care a very necessary girl issue. Luckily no accidents where had, but I vowed to be cautious in the future. Living with two men and no females, I wanted to be absolutely positive I got this period thing down perfect the first time around and every time after. That way no one but me would ever have to know I had it. The only struggle would be these cramps; they seemed to worsen overnight.

As soon as I was dressed and ready for school, I wandered out to the kitchen expecting to find Steve instead of a note from him on the counter. It read:

_Julia,_

_Congratulations, you get to skip school today. Tried to wake you up at least fifty times but you just rolled off the damn bed. See you when I get home, because unlike you, I didn't feel like being lazy today. Don't worry about Dad. I'll take you to see him when I get home. _

_Steve_

That sounded like him alright. I glanced at that clock and gasped. Two o'clock. Steve would be out of school soon, and it was just my luck that Angela should decide now was the perfect time to invite herself over.

I'd expected that to be honest, figured she'd want to tell me all about her Catholic school experience first chance she got. It was her first day there, after all, and best friends were supposed to tell each other everything about everything.

"So how was it?" I asked, even before a hi. I had to admit, I was curious. Her facial expression when she walked in was something for sure.

"Interesting," she drawled out.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, they were on my case before I could even open my mouth," she explained. "God, my mother must've told Father White she'd had it up to here with me."

"Well, she did think to send you there, so…"

"Yeah, whatever," she dismissed it. "Anyway, they told me they don't tolerate my kind of behavior at their fine school and that I was only there because God's grace was granting me a second chance or some bullshit like that… You should've heard him. On and on about how most kids parents had to pay for them to be there, and they almost considered rejecting my mom's request for a voucher. Christ, it sounded like somethin' out of a movie."

"You could at least humor them." I felt the need to point that out, even though I was sure she was well aware cooperating would be an easier option for her. "Glory, Angel, sometimes I swear you _want_ to get in trouble."

She shrugged. "Ain't my fault they react to the tiniest things there…"

I just shook my head. "Oh God, what'd you do to those poor nuns?"

A tiny smirk formed in the corner of her lips. "Let's just say Sister Mary Ellen probably thinks I need an exorcism…"

She seemed proud of that, too proud, so I changed the subject before she could get any smugger. "I skipped today."

"Couldn't handle school without me?" she guessed.

"No, my dad's in the hospital."

That flipped her attitude fast. "Shit, what happened?"

I took a deep breath and explained word for word the events of last night, minus getting my period. Eventually I'd tell her, but now didn't feel like the right time.

She slung an arm around me and sighed. "If it's any consolation, Tim broke Mom's ex-boyfriend's jaw once. Heck, I think that was the first time they sent him to juvie…"

Hearing that reminded me how relieved I was Dad decided not to pass the blame to Steve. Maybe on some level he realized there was plenty reason for Steve to be upset with him. I wasn't sure, but I hoped it meant there was a chance they might get along better in the future.

I went on to tell her about the Aunt Rita mess and Leroy. She could be a good listener when she wanted to be, or maybe I was just the only person in the world she bothered to be nice to. Either way, I was glad for it, and before I could decide otherwise, I told her I became a woman because I realized she might be able to help me out with a small problem.

Evie told Steve he had to give me money to buy pads, but in the wake of everything that had happened with Dad, the thought of doing that became less and less appealing to me.

"Could I have some of your pads?" I asked her, blushing as soon as the words left my lips. Gosh, if it felt awkward to ask her, it would be two thousand times worse talking to Steve.

"You're lucky I don't have mine right now." She reached through her purse and handed me what supplies she had, which unfortunately weren't pads. "You can just have them all."

I stared at the tampons she'd handed me, and my eyes widened.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Christ's sakes, you'll figure it out. It's not as hard as you think."

"What if … what if it doesn't fit?" I blushed all over again, wishing I hadn't bothered to ask her in the first place, but damn it, I was desperate. I only had one pad left of Evie's.

"It has to fit," she assured me, but I remained unconvinced.

"I mean, you _do_ realize pretty much every guy in the entire world is bigger than this, right?" She held up one of the tampons as evidence. "Trust me, it'll fit."

Honest, I didn't think about that and I never would've thought to. She always worded everything so bluntly, and I wished I could curl up into a shell like a turtle.

I stuffed them in my purse. Tonight, I'd try to find the courage to ask Steve for that money, but if I couldn't, at least I wouldn't have to bleed to death. Speaking of him, he was due to be home any minute.

Fortunately Angela said she had plans with that Bryon guy before I even had to ask her to leave. My luck was finally changing after this weekend, and she was gone a whole ten minutes before Steve showed up and took me to the hospital.

xxxx

We'd been at the hospital a whole hour before Dad said anything to either of us. He was sober now and in a miserable mood.

"I've been doing some thinking today, and I think maybe you two oughta live with Ben and Carla for the rest of the year." He swallowed and looked up at us. "Nothing's for sure yet, but it might be a good idea. 'Til I can get back on my feet, you know."

At least he was suggesting Mom's relatives and not his, but the idea still unnerved me. "Dad," I started.

"Charlie, don't be ridiculous," Steve interrupted, his tone rising fast. "It'd be pretty fucking stupid to send me off somewhere when I'm nearly an adult myself, and you ain't sending her off on her own…"

Dad shook his head. "I dunno if I have a choice."

I stepped forward. "What do you mean?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was right on par with the suspicions I'd had last night.

"It's just I'd rather this before they take you away from me…"

"Nobody's taking anybody away." Steve shot up and rushed to Dad's bedside, towering over him. "I can't believe you. Don't tell her bullshit like that. It'll just give her nightmares."

"But it could happen, Steve," Dad persisted. "I ain't had a job in weeks, me an' Rosie are in shambles… I got arrested, and now this?" He wiped at his eyes, close to tears now. "I … I don't want it to, but we have to think realistically."

Dad sounded more responsible right then than he had in weeks, and I think it only pissed Steve off more. His face reddened. I walked up to him, but he shoved me out of the way, and stormed out of the room.

I caught my balance before I fell and stared at Dad who was full on crying now.

The sadness in his eyes the most sincere apology I'd ever seen in my life, and I chased after Steve before I shattered into a million pieces.

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Pleeeease review! :) I promise to once again reward your generosity with fast updates!

(*blushes* Shout out to longtime internet friend who's yet to be thanked for her help with this series... Thanks for listening to me ramble about the complicated storylines ad nauseam for the past couple years, and for sympathizing with Charlie when no one else would, and I'm sorry I haven't been courteous enough to thank you sooner! I'm not entirely sure what she username she goes by on FanFiction these days, but she'll know who she is. :P)


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

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I sprinted through the hospital hallway, paying little attention to my surroundings, nearly knocking people over as I went. The only thing on my mind was catching up to Steve. Punching the lights out of Dad aside, he'd been good lately—_real_ good—and I didn't want that to end with him doing running off to do something reckless. He'd been so responsible, in fact, I wondered if he was really Steve and not some alien from Mars pretending to be my brother, but moments like these reminded me it was my stubborn brother in there the whole time. He would do something too. I couldn't say what, but knowing him, it'd probably involve Soda and/or punching somebody.

Steve turned the corner, and I had to move fast before he was completely out of my sight. God, this was embarrassing, chasing after him like a lunatic… I thought about calling out his name, but people already turned their heads. An older nurse even jumped out of a room to scold me.

She grabbed my arm, and the shock halted me momentarily. "This is unacceptable behavior, young lady," she said sternly. "Children can't run loose in the hospital. You could hurt somebody or yourself!"

"Sorry," I offered up in a small voice.

"Goodness gracious, where is your mother?" Her fingers tightened around my arm. "I'd like to have a word with her about your behavior."

I swallowed and tried to compose myself. Years had desensitized me to that question; school especially with how the other children were always fascinated to hear that another child could be motherless. It didn't matter how many orphans there were in fairy tales, it was still a foreign concept to them. It'd gotten to the point where I could tell them straight-faced my mother was dead and think nothing of it. There was no use getting sensitive about something you were bombarded with all the time, but this time was different. This time it struck the wrong nerve.

I yanked out of her grip and charged onward in the direction I'd last seen Steve, making it no more than six feet before I met the cold tile floor face down. The impact seared through me, hard enough it took me a couple seconds to register what happened.

"I told you you could hurt yourself," the same nurse's voice assaulted my ears.

I just lay there, unsure what to do. This maneuver was as reckless and stupid as anything Steve could do, and I just proved myself to be no less emotionally sound about what Dad had told us. Maybe Steve was smart enough to get out of here before he had his lapse in judgment. Maybe I should've just let him go instead of making an ass out of myself.

"I told you you could hurt yourself," she repeated. "Glory, you oughta be ashamed of yourself."

I wondered how long she would stand there and scold me before finally helping me up. I guess she was waiting on my mother to pop up and drag me out of the hospital, promising I'd never cause trouble again.

"Shit, you okay?"

I recognized the new voice as Steve's immediately and tried to pull myself up. I could hardly move; every muscle in my body had stiffened, and I just wanted to stay on the floor.

"You know her?" the nurse asked.

"Of course I do. She's my sister."

Steve helped me stand and kept a gentle grip on my arm. Once standing, I realized the shock had immobilized me more than the pain, and my only real injury was my lip, which felt mighty swollen, maybe even bloody.

"You aware your sister's been running around causing a commotion?" The nurse pointed her bony finger at me as she spoke. "Your parents anywhere near?"

I watched Steve's face settle into a disgusted scowl, but I couldn't tell if he was irritated at me or her. "No, our Dad's a patient right now, and I'm looking after her," he explained. "She took off on me, and I've been lookin' for her."

It was impressive how Steve could fabricate believable lies at a moment's notice, and I thanked God she hadn't realized he was the person I was chasing after.

"Well, you best keep a closer eye on her." She propped a hand on her hip and shook her head at both of us. "This kind of behavior poses a risk to our staff and patients."

"C'mon, Julia, we're goin' home."

"Hold on a sec," she called after us.

Steve ignored her and kept walking, dragging me with him. I didn't fight him. I was honestly a little scared, seeing as he was awfully quiet, and in my experience, a quiet Steve was a terrifying Steve.

By the time we reached his car and he shoved me in the passenger seat, I was in tears.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, getting in the driver's seat.

I shrugged. The only reason I had would irritate him more.

"You can't do somethin' like that and say nothin'." He clenched a fist and asked me once more. "I'll give you once more chance, what the _hell _was that about?"

"I dunno."

"You didn't want me to leave, huh?" he guessed.

That sounded close enough to the real answer. Honest, I wasn't sure what the real reason was anymore, but if I didn't give him something, he'd never stop yelling, so I nodded slowly and prayed he wouldn't run with it.

"Well, tough shit," he said. "You think I was just leaving for fun? You think I'd have just left you there all night with Charlie?"

I clutched my arms over my stomach and tried to ignore the harshness in his tone as he rambled on. "I left because I'd have gotten myself kicked out otherwise. You don't get it, do you? You saw what I did to Charlie the other night. I could've done it again if he kept going on about bullshit like that."

_But it wasn't bullshit_, I felt like pointing out. It was true. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, this time it wasn't just irrational worrying on my part. For the first time in a long time, I was the logical one and he was being illogical.

"Why the fuck would you wanna chase after me? What made you think I'd be any less pissed at you than I am at him?"

I shielded my eyes. Tears streamed down my face in swarms, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"Everything's just about you, huh?" He tore my hands away from my face. "Is that it?"

I gasped. "No."

He stared at me incredulously. "No?"

My hands shook. I told myself it was only because I was frustrated and not afraid of him. I took a deep breath and tried to reason with him. "What the hell was I supposed to do, Steve? Dad's bawling like a baby, and you just left…" I tried to keep my body steady as I spoke. The jitteriness just made my aches from the fall ache more, but I couldn't help it. "I don't… I just... Forget it, I don't even know what I'm sayin'."

He smashed his fist against the car door, and I watched, waiting for him to yell more. His face was still as red as it was back in the hospital room, and his hands shook just as much as mine, only it was out of pure anger for him.

He reached over to me, and I flinched away.

"Jesus Christ, Julia." He ran a hand through his hair and looked deeply wounded by my actions. I guess he and I both realized I was scared.

"Hey, I just wanna see if you're okay," he started, still sounding mighty irritated, but at least it was a tolerable kind of irritated. "That sounded like a hard fall back there, and your lip's bleeding a little."

He reached out again, and I let him tilt my chin up.

"Jesus, you busted it up good." He stared at it a moment longer and let go. "Shocked you ain't bleeding more. That'll be a hell of a bruise, kid. You hurt real bad anywhere else?"

"No."

"You sure?"

I didn't answer that. I kind of just ached all over. Not enough it was anything bad, but still…

"God, that bitch of a nurse could've at least made sure you were alright before she started in on us. Ain't that what you're supposed to do in a hospital anyway? Make sure people are alright?" He sounded mighty cross with her, and for the way he screamed at me a minute ago, I wondered how he managed not to explode in front of her.

It was funny though. If he'd paused a second longer, I think that was what she was trying to make us wait for, so she could get a look at my lip before we left, but Steve was impatient as ever.

"It's just bullshit," he said, putting the key in ignition. "Everything is just fucking bullshit."

He started the car and drove us home without another word.

xxxx

He helped me inside and gave me ice to put on my lip.

Aside from him demanding I keep the ice on my lip, it was at least a good half-hour before either of us really said anything to each other.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore and set the ice down. "Steve, I don't think Dad's crazy about that stuff..." As soon as the words left my mouth, I wondered if I should've eased him into this conversation. After all, it was that conversation with Dad that pissed him off in the first place, but I couldn't let it sit in the back of my head any longer, and I didn't want him lying to me. If he knew it could happen, he shouldn't pretend like it couldn't.

"I think it could happen," I said.

"Shut up. Don't talk like that."

"But I'm just bein' realistic—"

"No, you're bein' just like him," he cut in. "Just fucking like him to always assume the worst and just sit there 'cause he thinks he can't do a goddamned thing about it. You think I'm a pessimist? Christ! Take a good look at him."

"But, Steve—"

"Stop it." He gripped my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. "I asked you to trust me when Aunt Rita was here, and I'mma ask you to do it again. Trust me on this one. Nothin's gonna happen."

I groaned and shoved him away from me. "You're too overconfident in yourself. That's what your problem is."

"Have I ever been wrong about shit like this before?"

"Not, but there's a first time for everything."

I'd thought this through. Even if the hospital didn't report us, it didn't matter, because it seemed like Dad was hellbent on sending us away again. Something about the way he said it just made it feel like it was happening. It could be a false vibe, and I hoped to hell I was wrong and that this'd just be one more thing he'd get to throw in my face, but I wasn't stupid enough to trust his word this time. I knew better than that.

"I ain't arguing with you no more." Despite how irritated, he stepped forward and hugged me. "I got better shit to do than to prove you wrong when I know I'm right."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, there will come a day when you're wrong, Steve."

"Nope." He released me and smirked. "Be good and promise me you won't worry about nothin', 'cause I already told you it's all bullshit, and I would know. I'm the most full of it out of anybody in the world, right?"

I rubbed my forehead and sighed. "Alright, Steve, where're you going?" He had plans to do something stupid with Soda or he wouldn't be acting this ridiculously happy.

"Soda's."

"Can I come?"

"Hell no."

"Maybe Pony'll be there or something," I added, not realizing it'd only worsen my cause.

He shook his head. "All the more reason for you to stay home."

I frowned. Although my face probably already looked like a permanent frown the way my lip was swollen.

"You stay here and take it easy," he told me. "I promise I'll be back before you sleep, okay?"

"Fine," I gave in.

He opened the door and stepped out.

"Wait," I called after him, remembering I needed money for pads.

He turned around and I grimaced. God, I should've just let him go and figured out how to use tampons, but it was too late now. "I, um , you remember when Evie came and, um, she said she told you something."

He stared at me like I was speaking French. "I have no idea what the hell you're talkin' about, kid."

"You know," I whined. "Girl stuff."

His face flushed. "Here." He handed me two dollars from his pocket and held up his hand when I tried to thank him. "Don't even. I've had enough talk about girl issues for one lifetime. Just keep the change and be happy, will ya?"

"Okay."

"And make sure you walk to the store before it gets dark, alright?"

"Okay," I agreed again, relieved that was easier than I thought it would be.

He slammed the door behind him before I could say anything more. If I wanted to be real mean, I could use this against him. I could probably just mention I needed money, and out of fear it'd be about my period, he might just hand it to me no questions asked.

He was lucky I wasn't maniacal to actually do it, and if we both had our way, that'd be the last he'd hear about my period for the rest of our lives.

xxxx

_Friday, December 2__nd__ 1966_

A few days passed with little excitement. Dad got out of the hospital and I survived my first period, but that was all I could say.

School just wasn't the same without Angela. She wasn't there to torment me or get me in trouble or any of the other things she was famous for, but still, I missed her. I missed seeing her by my locker everyday, and I especially missed the way she'd stick up for me at all costs. I could've used that this week when a few girls made fun of my busted lip. Rachel tried to tell them off. I'd give her that. She tried to sling a carefully selected insult in their direction, but she wasn't Angela. Nobody could insult better than Angela. That was one thing everyone could unanimously agree on—whether you hated her or loved her, she commanded a certain level of respect just for daring to be as brash as she was.

And my brother... Well, he just pissed me off, acting so cocksure and arrogant nothing could go wrong. I stopped arguing with him since that night at the hospital, but I never stopped silently thinking to myself he was being ridiculous, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. That was the worst part, wondering if he was really this blindsided. It was always Steve who broke the nasty truths to me. He kept his fair share of secrets too, but when it came down to it, he was honest.

I just wanted to slap him and make him be his irritating pessimistic self again. I mean, he wasn't acting happy by any means. He'd been pretty damn grouchy if anything, but he wasn't acting like himself at all, and he was dead wrong if he thought he could fool me.

He couldn't, and much to his surprise, I was right.

I knew that from the moment Dad sat me done after Steve had left for work. If he couldn't talk to me in front of my brother, something big was up.

He folded his uneasy hands atop the table and avoiding looking at me. "Remember what we talked about the other day? About you and your brother maybe living elsewhere for a while?"

"Yeah." Little did he know I'd dreaded this conversation all week. I knew it was coming, and I'd spent far too many hours mulling over it.

"Well, I talked to your Aunt Rita, and—"

"Why her?" I broke in before he could finish his thought.

"'Cause she's the only one who'd take you both, and I don't wanna split you two up."

I took a deep breath. I should be glad he was thinking about that, but I couldn't be glad about any of this, especially not if he wanted us with _her_ again. "Why're you even doing this in the first place?"

"I just need a chance to get on my feet again," he stated calmly. "I can't do that worrying about whether or not you two'll be sent away."

I slapped my hand down on the table and glared. "So you're just gonna abandon us like when we were kids?"

"No, no," he tried to assure me. "This is even more temporary."

"How'm I supposed to know that's not just another lie?" I shot out of my seat and thrust the chair at the table.

He just watched it knock over and said nothing to reprimand me.

"You bastard," I hissed at him. "You … you fucking bastard! We have friends here. You can't do this..."

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my own mouth. I was the one who knew this was inevitable; why was I the one getting angry now?

"C'mon, honey, just listen to me for a second."

"Fuck you, Dad."

I wasn't listening to anything. I bolted out the back door before he could even think to get up, and having just gotten out of the hospital, there was no way he could chase after me.

* * *

Thank you for the many reviews so far! I've been lucky you're so loyal. :) As long as you keep reviewing, I'll keep posting!

I asked this once before but ... sequel to this or to Before I Fall? I ask because I'd like to have something ready to go immediately after I post the last chapter of this.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

SO SORRY it took me longer than I wanted to put this out. Homework kicked my ass hard. I hope you'll all understand. :/

Slightly shorter update this time and potentially a bit of a filler chapter, but … no cliffhanger! (at least not a huge one) Rejoice!

* * *

I didn't make it far—maybe a block or two from my house—before my frustration exploded into an uncontrollable mess. _Keep running_, I told myself_. Even if you ain't got a clue where you're headed, keep going. Whatever you do, don't stop. _But I did stop. My knees collapsed, and I plopped down on a nearby street curb, only to sit there for several minutes, tugging fistfuls of my hair in a stubborn effort to suppress my tears.

Running was useless. He'd made up his mind, and we couldn't change it; he was our father and if he wanted to give us to somebody else, he could do that. Steve could probably get himself legally emancipated. I'd heard of kids in our neighborhood doing that, so he might have a lucky break, but at twelve, it wouldn't happen for me. I was stuck wherever Dad wanted me to be, no matter how ridiculous it seemed for him to put us with her again. How could he think she'd be any better of a parent to us than he was? Maybe she was his favorite Aunt, but he'd have to be stupid to ignore how much we resented her—_and_ _him_ by extension for forcing us to live with her. Why he wanted to go down that path again, I didn't know, but then again, no one understood anything he did these days. Sometimes I thought he'd stopped caring. He felt so useless he just stopped caring, about everything, including himself.

I tried to focus on my few positive memories of her to calm myself. If worst came to worst, it didn't have to be as bad as I envisioned now. Aside from punishing me for my supposed attention-seeking behavior, she did spoil me with pretty hand sewn dresses and always took the time to primp my hair, making me look like a little precious angel—_her_ precious little angel. She thought of me as her daughter in more ways than one, which would later drive me crazy, but she wasn't all bad. I had to remember that as hard as it was. Sometimes she'd give nickel to spend on penny candy at the grocery store. Sometimes she'd read books to me. Sometimes she'd teach me how to cook. Sometimes she did lots of nice things, but I was afraid of her and that horrifying dark side or hers. I lived in constant fear her patience would snap. It always did, usually at Steve, but not always, and that uncertainty killed me, just the same as wondering how living with her a second time might happen panicked me now.

The rest of the world went dark to me as I covered my face with my hands. I gave in to the tears and let them through freely with no regard that people could be watching. Birds chirped and dogs barked. Children laughed and screamed in their yards. The sounds of the neighborhood didn't disappear, especially the cars. As each vehicle flew past me, I could hear the sounds of the engine roar and fade, the tires screeching, the radio blaring Elvis. All of this went on around me, yet I sat here, crying my eyes out like a blubbering lunatic. Steve was right every time he'd told me I was strange.

The sounds kept coming, and then one car's engine and tires sounded to a halt nearby. The door slamming told me it couldn't have been more than a couple feet away from me. Alarmed, I uncovered my eyes and jumped from both relief and shock to see my brother and Evie standing in front of me.

Evie peered at me with concerned eyes, but before I could get a good luck at Steve, he'd grabbed me hard by the arm and yanked me to my feet in one fluid movement. "What the hell're you doin' out here by yourself?"

His harsh tone should've been enough to scare me witless, but somehow that didn't matter. I was so relieved to see him, I hugged him and continued to cry, harder than I had before.

"Hey, what happened?" He untangled my arms from him and held me out at an arm's length. "What're you doin' out here?"

I shook my head and pushed against his grip. He let me, and I hugged once more, holding onto him as tight as I could. It hit me right then if I went up to Kansas, I'd probably be going by myself. He made a promise to follow me up there over Thanksgiving, but I had a feeling that was only for that weekend and not a long-term promise. There was no way he could stomach living with Aunt Rita for that long. One week would be too much for him to handle, let alone months.

"What do you think happened?" Evie's voice was quiet like she was embarrassed to ask while I was standing here. "Glory, she looks mighty upset."

"I dunno," Steve grumbled, his arms coming around my back.

"Hey, Julia, can you tell us what happened?" Evie rested her hand on my shoulder. Even though I was most relieved to see my brother, it was nice to have her support too. It made me feel lucky. Not every little sister in the world could claim their brother's girlfriend liked them, and she'd helped me out more than a person in her position should ever have to.

Still, it wasn't enough to sway me to talk. I should've been able to. It was such a simple reply: _Dad says we have to live with Aunt Rita_. That was all it needed to be, but after landing Dad in the hospital, I was afraid what Steve's potential reaction might be. It seemed like too big of a risk, so I just shook my head against his shirt and hoped they'd quit asking me.

Steve sighed and pushed me towards the backseat of his car. "C'mon, let's get you home," he said, and that's when I found my voice.

"You gonna leave after you drop me off?" I blushed, but it probably wasn't noticeable beneath the toll tears had taken on my face. My eyes were for sure reddened, and maybe my cheeks too. All in all, I felt like a giant, immature baby, especially now, having to ask that.

I took a deep breath and stared at him hopefully, despite all embarrassment.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked to Evie. "Jule, we kinda—" he started, but Evie didn't let him finish.

She smacked his arm and gave him a sharp look.

"No," he corrected himself.

"Promise?"

"Promise," he assured me with a heavy sigh.

Satisfied, I opened the car door and crawled into the seat. Steve shut the door, but outside the window, I could still hear them bickering. The muffled sound made it difficult to understand the words, but I swore I heard Evie say I needed Steve more than her, which made me blush even more, even if it was true. Still, the relief to know he wouldn't put his plans with her over me superseded any humiliation.

It didn't take long before they'd reached an agreement and got back into the car. The silence indicated Evie had won, although the worried expression on Steve's told me it probably wasn't a hard argument for him to give up.

Before he started the car, Steve reached back and patted my leg as if to tell me I'd be okay; the kind gesture just made me bawl more, and even though it was only a couple blocks, it felt like an eternity before we reached home.

xxxx

Dad was furious with me when we walked inside. I should've let Steve and Evie scurry before me before I dared cross the entryway because he started in on me with no warning. "How the hell do you think you are running off on me like that? And where did you learn to speak to me like that?" He pulled me towards him and whacked me on the seat of my skirt so hard it halted my breath for a second. "Answer me."

I hesitated, still trying to recover from the unexpected blow. I thought if he struck me that hard again, I could pass out, but when he raised his hand again, Steve rushed at him and yanked me from his grip. "Your sister deserves what's coming to her," Dad grumbled at him.

"You better not lay another finger on her before you tell me what happened before she left," he demanded. "She can hardly talk to me she's so upset. What the hell happened?"

"It ain't my fault she overreacted."

"What'd you say?"

I stared at Dad. He looked irate still, but behind it, you could see the apprehension of having to tell Steve building.

He took a step forward, and Steve stepped in front of me. "What'd you _say_?"

"I told her you two ain't gonna be livin' with me for a while," he said, matter of factly.

Steve got his hands on Dad's shoulders. "And where exactly are we gonna be livin', Charlie?"

Dad's eyes flared at Steve's question. "As your father, I got a right to decide anything I want by you two, you know."

Steve shoved Dad towards the wall. "Quit dodging the question an' tell me!"

Dad stumbled and nearly fell, and though he put up a tough verbal front, I'd say he looked terrified of Steve if I didn't know any better. He brushed himself off and composed himself. The anxiousness made sense if you considered Steve'd put him in the hospital a mere few days ago. "I don't wanna split you up," he explained. "I don't want that at all, and Aunt Rita's the only one who'd agree to take the both of you…"

"Damn it, what the fuck happened to what we talked about the other night?" Steve charged at Dad, fire in his eyes, but he somehow managed to hold back from throwing punches. "What the hell makes you think I couldn't look after her? Every time you take off, I'm left to watch her. Every time you fuck up, she's running to me. Every time—"

"But you ain't eighteen yet, and they could still take you away."

"Bullshit."

Tears welled up in Dad's eyes. The anger must've been a front for all the worry, and I could no longer stand it. I fled to the couch. Evie followed me and sat beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder. I'd almost forgotten she was here, but I was damn glad now and far too eager to accept her kindness.

"Believe me, I wish it were," Dad said

"Well, I ain't goin' up there. I ain't livin' in some shithole of a town."

"I know…"

"And neither is she," Steve added, but it brought little comfort.

I watched Dad as he paced back and forth, struggling for words. He rubbed his forehead and looked near explosion in his angered upset. "If you two would just let me explain—"

"Explain what, Charlie?" Steve interrupted him. "It's pretty goddamned self-explanatory. You wanna send us off and just abandon all responsible, huh?"

"I ain't sending you off," he insisted. "She and Leroy are coming here."

I gave Dad a funny look, and Steve looked even more stunned. "What?"

"I won't be here," Dad went on. "She found me a job up there. I'll be living at her place and working for a while…"

Steve looked at me and Evie and then back to Dad. "We don't have room for them here."

"Without me here, there'll be plenty."

Steve clenched both fists.

"Steve," I warned him from the couch, hoping he'd take heed and back away from Dad before he exploded and did something stupid.

Steve glared at me and flipped his attention right back to Dad.

Disaster would strike if I didn't do something. I thought as fast as I could, but my thoughts jumbled, trying to find the right words to say. Finally, I resorted to sprinting over to him and pulling him away from Dad by his shirt as best I could. "Steve, calm down," I told him, trying to keep my voice calm to avoid looking like a hypocrite. Even though he acted like one to me several times, something told me the situation wouldn't run as smoothly in reverse.

Dad paced towards us and put a hand on each of our shoulders.

Steve jerked away instantly, and Dad didn't bother trying a second time. "Honest, I wish there were a better way," he said, shaking his head in defeat. "The job she found me, it's the best offer I'll get. I have to take it."

I swallowed, trying to wrap my head around Aunt Rita doing him this giant favor. It had to be so she could tell everyone what a nice, selfless person she was, but maybe she truly did care. She meant well, I guess, but that wouldn't forgive everything or make me any more excited for her arrival.

"But Dad," I started. "Can't she just stay up there with you? And Steve'll stay here with me?" I realized how stupid I sounded once the words left my lips. Steve wasn't old enough. People would grow suspicious for sure, but that was what I wanted—anything to stop her from coming sounded just fine to me.

"No, baby," Dad said softly. "Your brother ain't old enough, and even if he were, I can't imagine that'd work."

He wrapped his arms around me. I flinched, remembering how hard he'd stuck me just minutes ago, but his mood had flipped drastically between now and then. He held me close, refusing to let go. If Steve would let him, he'd probably hug him too, but Steve had wormed his way over to Evie, most likely apologizing she'd had to witness all this.

"Everything'll work out." Dad kissed the top of my head and released me. "I'mma fix this mess, I promise."

He sounded sincere enough I wanted to believe him, but past experience told me not to trust another well-intentioned empty promise.

He walked up to Steve and Evie and stood a couple feet away from them with his hands shoved in his pockets, like he was searching for the right words to tell Steve, but he never found them. With a grunt, he shuffled his feet to the door and turned the knob.

"You're just takin' off?" Steve asked.

Dad looked back to him, eyes vacant and despondent. "I got somethin' to take care of," he told us, but I think everyone here knew it was a lie.

My best guess was embarrassment. He was embarrassed about the situation he'd walked himself into and embarrassed his son's girlfriend had to witness the aftermath, but most of all he was probably just ashamed of himself.

And the worst part was if he asked me whether or not he should be, I'd answer honestly. He should be ashamed of the things he'd done, but when I heard the door slam, a small wave of pity arose.

It demanded I feel sorry for him, even if I logically knew it was entirely his fault.

* * *

I hope it wasn't too boring, and I really, really, really hope you review! :) It just makes my day to know you're here and reading. Hearing that makes me that much more likely to put out a fast update, so if you could spare a second or two of your time, I would greatly appreciate that. Many, many thanks for the support you've displayed so far! Keep being awesome!


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Since the last was short, here's a fast longer update! With no cliffhanger, I promise! I probably shouldn't update so fast (I can't imagine you all had a chance to read yet) but you guys have been so supportive, and I really, really want to! Hopefully you'll all catch up eventually. :)

* * *

I stared at the front door for a while, the slamming sound still resonating in my ears. Old tears stained my cheeks, and the urge to cry crept up my throat again as I tried to find the energy to move. Behind me, Steve and Evie bickered quietly about God knows what, but all I could think about was Dad and how crushed he looked.

I just couldn't get the image out of my head, and it brought me right back to the night I'd seen him cry in the hospital. The shock since hadn't worn off, and now it only heightened. Nobody wanted to see their father upset. I was used to his angry outbursts, but varied with the newfound sullenness, it was hard to deal with, and I endlessly wondered what would fix it. Apparently he thought Rosie would; I guess that was way he kept running back to her, and I cringed to think he might be headed to her this instant. That would only complicate everything more. If she'd rejected him over Thanksgiving, she wouldn't change her mind, but sometimes when I looked into his eyes, I swore he thought she would. That was when it hit me that we'd seen that far off vacant look in his eyes before—before he'd even met Rosie, back when he was just a single father who'd recently got his kids back.

The first two years with him were rough. He didn't know what to do. Six years away from us hadn't taught him anything more about being a parent, and he was scared out of his mind a lot of the time. I could name a million instances—putting my skirt on me backwards once and tangling a comb so tightly in my hair after he'd tried brush it, he almost needed to cut it out to name two—and _those_ were just the little insignificant things. Nevermind he and Steve had started fighting on a daily basis since day one.

I guess in some ways, our childhood with Aunt Rita was better than the first couple years back with him, but there was something about him that felt more sincere. Even Steve couldn't deny that. As rotten as he was for Dad, he'd been worse for Rita, and it was an awful shame Dad never realized that.

The couch squeaked, jerking me out of my thought, and I turned to see Evie standing beside me. "Hey, Julia, let's go for a walk just you and me." She placed a hand on my back and gently pushed me towards the door. "Sound good to you?"

I nodded and glanced at Steve who now glared at us.

"Where're you going?" He leaned forward, prepared to jump up at a moment's notice.

"She looks like she could use some fresh air," she told him calmly yet forcefully. "So I'mma take her for a walk."

"I ain't arguin'." He held his hands up in mock a display of innocence. "Just wanted to know where you were headed."

"Uh huh." She nodded and grinned. "Well, we'll only be goin' a few blocks around the neighborhood if it makes you feel better. It's awfully tempting, but I don't think I'll be kidnapping Julia tonight."

He shoved his hands through his over-greased hair—the number one indicator he'd planned for a date tonight; that and the unusually clean smell—and groaned as he pulled them back down. "I honestly don't care what the fuck you do."

She didn't say anything, but the tiny proud smirk pissed him off.

He got up and drug his feet over to her. "I don't," he insisted, placing his hands on her hips. "Go on. Go talk about your girlie bullshit with her for all I care." He leaned in to kiss her, and I shielded my eyes, afraid they were gonna start making out on me or something.

"Don't worry, babe," I heard Evie say.

I looked up and noticed she'd pulled away. "We'll save only the most uncomfortable details for you," she added and patted his cheek.

"C'mon, Julia." She joined me at the door and hooked her arm in mine. "Let's get goin' before he thinks he needs to come too."

"Fat chance of that," he said, but Evie shooed him away with her free hand.

Once we stepped outside, she unhooked our arms and shut the door. I listened to see if Steve had anything else to say, but I guess he didn't.

Evie started down the steps and approached the sidewalk path. I lingered near the door and watched her, wondering why she wanted to take this walk in the first place.

She motioned for me, and when I didn't budge, added, "You comin'?".

I jogged up to her and started walking alongside her. "So what's this about, really?" I asked. I should just be glad for the generous offer and appreciate her kindness, but I had to know all the same.

Thankfully she didn't grow impatient with me asking. Though I knew she wouldn't, it was still a big relief. "Figure if we give him a half hour or so, he'll cool his jets," she explained. "You know him, he'll fizzle out as long as he's got no one to fight with."

Well, that was usually true, but maybe not this time. "I dunno, Evie." I breathed a pained sigh and let my shoulder muscles grow tense. "My dad always puts him in a bad mood, and it just seems like the worst of his temper is yet to come, you know. Soon as Charlie gets back…" I trailed off, unsure if anything I said made sense, but in my head, the worry was a hundred percent real.

"But the worst doesn't have to be tonight, does it?"

I thought about it hard, slowing my feet down for a few strides. "I dunno," I told her again, particularly dragging my feet one in front of the other.

She must've grown tired of my tortoise speed, but she slowed her pace to meet mine, never allowing herself to get more than a couple steps ahead of me. "Maybe it'd be good to get it out of the way," I mused. "But then again, maybe he'd just stay in a perpetual state of anger." I stopped dead in my tracks, certain that was in our near future. He was just bitter all the time; even when he wasn't super angry, he was always bitter.

She flipped around and stopped too. "C'mon , Julia, you know him as well as I do."

I shook my head at her. Sometimes I wasn't sure of that. With the exception of maybe Angela, he knew be better than anyone else, but Soda and her probably knew a lot more about him than I did. He just didn't talk to me about himself.

"Trust me, he'll save his explosion for when your aunt gets here," she went on. "That's what he's most pissed about, ain't it? Her coming?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "but it's my dad's fault that's happening."

"Oh, sweetie, he won't risk taking it out on Charlie again." She sighed and slung an arm around my shoulder. "Not after what happened last time."

I swallowed, wanting to believe that, but somehow I just couldn't. It was Dad's fault Aunt Rita was coming, and Steve wouldn't look at it any other way.

She started moving again, nudging me to walk alongside her. "If you promise me not to say nothin' to him, I'll tell you a little secret."

Enticed by the offer, I nodded.

"You have to promise this stays between us though," she warned. "He wouldn't want you hearin' this. That's for damn sure."

I nodded again, firmer this time.

"Alright then," she said. "He cried when he told me about that."

"No way." I planted my feet to the cement and refused to take another step. "He never cries." He only ever got teary-eyed and that was only in extreme situations.

"He was mighty upset. I think he honestly thought he could've killed him."

"But he wouldn't," I said and took a step back to think about it. "Well, not on purpose."

"It scared him pretty bad."

Her words resonated through me—_scared him_. I wasn't naïve enough to think nothing could scare him. I knew that was bullshit. The night I stayed out too late with Ponyboy a few weeks ago, _I_ scared him pretty bad, and I was sure there were many other things in the world that had and could scare him, but to think about it now made my stomach uneasy. Maybe Evie was right about this, after all.

"C'mon, let's keep walking." She tugged on my cardigan sleeve and I followed her.

We walked on in silence for a long time before she finally broke it again. "I've been meaning to ask, he giving you any trouble about your special friend?"

"Special friend?" I gave her a funny look. Was she referring to Angela? If that was the case, he was always giving me trouble about her.

"Oh, sorry," she caught herself quickly. "It means your period."

"Oh."

"See, you can't really say the word, especially when men are around, so sometimes we women call it something else."

"I see," I said, taking note of it. Well, if Steve's reaction had been any indication, I'd vow never to utter a word about it to any male.

"No, he gave me a couple dollars for pads and didn't say a word to me about it," I added. "And it's already over."

"Good, I meant what I said about kicking his ass, you know."

"I know." I smiled, wondering how my brother managed to land such a neat girlfriend. It was funny. Usually my role as his little sister was to hate whoever he liked and bother him about it as much as possible, just as he was supposed to hate all my boyfriends and threaten to beat them up, but with her, if he ever said anything bad about her, I'd want to defend her and tell him to pull his head out of his ass before he lost her. He better not lose her; not when I'd grown to like her as well as I did.

"What do you say we head back before he goes stir crazy?" she asked.

I nodded. The time we'd been gone was far enough time for him to mull over his thoughts.

xxxx

When we reached home, Steve had nearly fallen asleep. He sat up as soon as he heard us, and Evie took a seat beside him. "I think I'mma go to Kathy's here in a minute," she said. "She doesn't live far."

His expression went from blank to irate fast. "Why?"

She gave him a look and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. I couldn't hear it, but he didn't look pleased; in fact, he looked ready to punch somebody, but the most impressive part was he gave in without a fight. "Yeah, fine."

I looked away, certain they might kiss before she left. It wasn't that I minded seeing people kiss, but it wasn't something I wanted to watch my brother do.

Once they'd said their goodbyes, she gave me a quick hug. "Keep him in line while I'm gone." She winked at me and stepped out the front door.

I turned to meet Steve's annoyed eyes. "Sorry I ruined your date with her…" I mumbled and scurried off to my room. If he was gonna be in a piss poor mood about it, I'd rather spend the rest of the evening alone.

He caught the door before I could shut it. "Not your fault," he said.

I gave him a suspicious look. "What'd she say to you?"

"None of your business."

"What'd she say to you?" I repeated, crossing my arms this time.

"That you apparently need me," he said.

I stared at him in shock, partly because I didn't expect him to give up and tell me, but mostly because of what he'd said.

I rolled my eyes, took a few steps into my room, and settled myself on my bed. "You can just leave me alone if you want," I told him. "I know I'm annoying. You'd rather be on a date with her. Just admit it."

He shook his head at me, a small grin forming in the corners of his mouth. "You _are_ annoying," he agreed, walking up to my bed and taking a seat. "And yeah, okay, I'd rather be on a date with her, but quit whining, damn it. That don't mean nothing."

"I'm not whining, I'm just stating facts," I promptly defended myself.

"In a very whiny way."

If he wanted whiny, I could be _very_ whiny, but I just sighed and opted to ignore him.

"Look, if I were really that upset about it, don't you think I'd have argued with her more?" he asked.

Certain it was a rhetorical question, I refused to answer. I wanted to throw it in his face that she always won their arguments. If he got to win against everybody else, he could at least be humble about that much, but I guess I was just glad he hadn't left me alone like I'd given him several opportunities to do. That told me he really wanted to be here or at least didn't mind.

"We really oughta eat something," Steve told me, nudging my arm. "C'mon, I'm starved."

I realized then was nearly suppertime, but I had no appetite. My normally scarce appetite was nonexistent tonight, the thought of food repulsive in every way.

I didn't argue though. I just got up and followed him to the kitchen.

xxxx

I picked at the eggs he made. Scrambled eggs were probably one of the few things he could make without completely scorching, but not even that could produce an appetite. I gave it a solid effort anyway, not interested in looking like a picky, spoiled toddler, but each bite brought the nerves further and further up my throat.

The sensation made me teary-eyed all over again, and I hated that. Hadn't I cried enough tonight? No matter how upset I was about Aunt Rita's eventual arrival, I had to get ahold of myself somehow. This was ridiculous and pointless and so many other things I couldn't put my finger on, but I couldn't stop it. A few tears dripped off my cheeks and landed on the eggs. I watched them fall and slammed my fork down. _Damn it, damn it, damn it_. My breath hitched, and I shoved the plate as far away from me as I could.

"Jesus, you almost knocked that off the table," Steve said.

I hadn't even noticed. I looked up at him; instead of annoyed, I was surprised and appalled to find he looked amused.

"It ain't funny," I told him, wiping my eyes with my cardigan sleeves.

"It is." He held a hand up to his mouth, and I could tell he was stifling a laugh.

That was it. I flew out of my seat intending to make a mad dash for my room, but I didn't make it far. My vision blurred and the world faded. I realized a moment too late I'd stood up too fast, and having next to no food in my stomach, on top of an insane amount of nerves, I was damn near guaranteed to pass out. I reached out for the table to steady myself, but I grasped onto nothing but the air as my knees buckled, and I tumbled straight to the floor.

I heard Steve's voice before I could see him again. It sounded like he was yelling my name several times, but I knew it was only worry.

I blinked at him a few times, my vision becoming less and less hazy.

He scooped me up off the floor and carried me all the way to my bed where he lay me down and sat beside me.

"Well, that's the second time you've done that now," he said. "Why?"

I rolled over to my side and peered at him. I had no clue why.

"You can't let yourself get worked up like this. It ain't good for you."

There was so much concern in his eyes, it nearly killed me.

Seeing that broke me, and the tears began spewing out of me uncontrollably. I tried to suck them back in, but it was useless; the harsh realization hit me—why I was so upset. It wasn't just Aunt Rita or Dad or passing out. It was all three of those things, but so much more. Ever since that night when the nurse asked me where my mother was, I couldn't help but wonder how any of this might've been different if my mother hadn't killed herself. It was the thought in the back of my head all week, the one I never allowed myself to think about consciously until now.

If that never happened… Better yet, if that and my dead brother's accident never happened. The possibilities were endless. Would we have to live with Aunt Rita? Would Dad have ever married Rosie? Would Steve and Dad fight as much as they did? It was stupid playing head games with myself. I knew from experience I only walked myself into a darker place, but this time, the downward spiral took ahold of me before I could stop it.

Steve took notice and rather than try to talk to me, he simply pulled me up into his arms and held me as the tears outpoured. Though my condition deteriorated before it improved, his efforts stopped the feelings of hopelessness almost immediately, and oddly that was what made it worse. It was like he'd given me permission to fall apart completely and not just pick up the pieces and throw them back together haphazardly. I'd cried a lot in my lifetime—as Steve would tell people, it was one of my most annoying traits—but this time, it felt like I was crying for everything I'd ever cried about.

I wondered what my mom would do if she were here, how she would react to seeing her daughter like this. It was safe to say I was a miserable, wretched mess. I fixated on that for a long time and allowed myself to feel sorry for myself in that I'd never know for sure; and even when my crying had slowed into sniffling and whimpering, I still thought about it.

"Julia, can you talk to me?" Steve's arms were still around me firm.

I shook my head, not ready to produce words.

"What's wrong?"

I could hear the insane amount of worry in his tone, and I guess having given him no reasons, he'd probably been left to fabricate his own the entire time.

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

I shook my head again.

"C'mon, now, you're seriously starting to freak me out," he said, losing his patience. "Just talk to me."

I took a deep breath and calmed myself enough to stammer out a sentence. "I … I've been thinking about Mom."

"What about Mom?" he pressed further.

I clammed up.

That was all I could offer for now, and I guess he noticed. "Hey, if you can't explain, you don't have to." He sighed and tightened his arms around me. "Just keep breathing."

His words spoke volumes to me right then—made me think about everything in a slightly different light.

If Mom hadn't died, maybe Steve would never have a reason to be as kind as he was this very second. Maybe we'd just fight all the time because if she were still around, we may not have a reason to be this close, and it was an awful sad thought, one that brought me even more distress than never meeting our mother.

Evie was right, and I could finally admit that now; I _did_ need him.

* * *

See? No cliffhanger… I didn't lie!

I hope it wasn't too sappy. It was just kind of the direction I needed this one to go... Thanks for reading, and please do review! I stayed up later than I should have to get this out, so it would mean a ton to know you appreciated my efforts (might make the sleep deprivation worth it tomorrow :P). As I always say, the more I hear from, the more enticing it is to update fast again. :)


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Sorry for the lapse in update. I had a really rough couple days, the details of which I probably don't need to share… Let's just say I've been quite stressed and your lovely reviews are pretty much the ONLY reason I'm taking the time to update right now.

To the anon review 'just a fan': HA! Well, I'm a little baffled by the surge in anon reviewing myself. Appreciative and touched, of course, but I have wondered myself where they're coming from... Regardless, I assure you it's not me. Hell, if I wanted to review myself, I'd go spam my SPN story. Reviewers over there aren't near as generous as they are in the Outsiders fandom and sometimes it makes me quite sad, so I'd DEF want to boost my count there over this story any day. ;)

* * *

_Saturday, December 4__th__, 1966_

I wasn't sure how long I cried before exhaustion took over and demanded I sleep, but when I woke up the next morning, I knew it'd been a long time. Emotionally, I felt better, and I couldn't deny the great relief it'd been to let go of something buried that deep, but my body was a different story. Though rested, my eyelids were heavy and puffy. My head ached like it had its own heartbeat, and every inch of me felt sluggish, like I'd run a marathon, but it was only that nervous breakdown. That was it. I had no other reason to feel like I'd been hit by a semi-truck.

I pulled my hands up to my eyes to shield them from the bright sun peeping through the curtains. The amount of light told me it was late morning by now if not early afternoon, but I didn't feel like getting out of bed. I was too afraid to face Steve. Glory, I wasn't sure I could handle the embarrassment. From fainting in the kitchen to finally falling asleep, he'd witnessed the entire show, or at least I presumed he did, because in all my memories of last night, he was there. It must've been hours, and when asked me what was wrong, I could hardly talk to him. Knowing him, that must've frustrated him something awful, but still, he never left my side. Not once.

Heck, he probably thought I was insane now. Maybe he wouldn't say it to my face, but I'd be able to tell by the way he looked at me. I knew the look, and I didn't know how to describe it other than it hurt worse to see than anything he could say or do to me. I couldn't handle it today. Maybe another day, sometime down the road when I'd had enough time to recover. Just not today. Please god, _not today_. The relief was too sweet to let go, and the worst part was, I knew I was still fragile. It'd only been a start, a start of not lying to myself or ignoring the way I felt, and if I saw Steve, one way or another I'd break down again.

My bed was warm anyway, and the air cold. You could tell winter was fast-approaching from the drafts, and our house had terrible heating that barely reached my room. All the more reason to stay in bed, but I knew hiding wouldn't last forever. He was stubborn enough to come find me, which was exactly what he did. I wasn't awake long—maybe five minutes in all—before he came knocking on the door. I knew it was him from the persistence. Dad would've knocked once and left, but Steve, he never gave up.

I tossed the blankets over my head and curled up into a ball beneath them. After three more knocks and several grumbled pleas to let him in, the door creaked open. Footsteps neared the bed, and he peeled the covers down enough to reveal my face. He didn't say anything at first. He just sat down and stared at me the way I was afraid he would.

Unable to stand the tension, I sat up and sent him a tiny glare, a fair warning to leave, but I was never as vicious as I wanted to be.

"Sleep okay?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Guess so."

"You slept a long time. I think thirteen hours."

Somehow that didn't surprise me and probably explained the sluggishness better than remnants of last night's freak out, but that realization didn't matter much. I swallowed and watched him anxiously, hoping he wouldn't want to talk about it, but it seemed like the words were flying out of his mouth the moment the thought appeared in my head. "I wanna talk to you about last night," he said, all too directly.

Of course, I should've expected that. You could say he was famous for cutting straight to the point; if he wanted to know something, one way or another, he got it out of you. At least it worked that way with me. I wondered if it was the same with his friends. I knew Soda had more influence over him than maybe even his girlfriend, but did it work the other way around? I hoped so. If Soda couldn't hold out against it, I shouldn't feel bad that I couldn't either.

Steve cleared his throat. I guess I was supposed to say something.

"You said _you_ wanted talk to me, you didn't say you wanted me to talk to you," I told him, proud I'd found a way to twist his words against him.

He didn't appreciate it though. "_Talk_ kinda implies that we both talk, smartass. You know, like a conversation?"

"Can we just not do this?"

"No."

I wrapped one of the blankets around me and shivered beneath it. "Please, Steve?"

"C'mon, Julia," he said, oozing frustration. "You didn't think I'd just forget it, did you?"

"I was kinda hoping you would…"

"Tough luck, kid."

God, he looked so serious I couldn't stand it. "It's probably not as bad as you think." I hugged the blanket around me tighter. "I mean, you see me cry all the time. It was just a bad night is all."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not bullshitting you."

"You _are_." He clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That ain't your usual upset, and you know it too."

"But—"

"Stop it." He pulled his hand away from his face, once again revealing that painful look. "Just be honest with me, okay?"

I looked down and stared at the bunched up sheets. This was unlike him, damn it. He wasn't into talking about feelings, especially not in great detail. I shut my eyes and exhaled.

He tapped my arm, hard enough it might've been a light slap, and though I knew it only to grab my attention, I snapped. "Jesus Christ, Steve." I shoved him with all my might until he finally got off the bed. "Leave me alone. If I don't wanna talk, I don't wanna talk!"

For a second I thought he might leave, but just he flipped right back around and lost what little patience he had left. "I don't care what you want," he yelled. "You got yourself so upset you fainted last night, and then it was two fucking hours before you finally went to sleep."

A few tears slid down my cheeks. I hadn't thought about the backlash, and now I shivered more out of fear than the cold. "So …"

"So I did a lot for you in those two hours," he went on. "And I stayed with you another hour after you fell asleep just to be sure you'd stay asleep, so if I wanna talk about this, we're talking, damn it."

More tears fell. I sniffled and tried to turn away, but he caught my shoulders and held them so I could only face him. "What's goin' on with you?" he asked, his voice calmer. "You're cryin' _again_."

"I know…"

"You said something about Mom last night. What about her? That why you're so upset?"

"It's stupid." It was stupid too. You couldn't change the past, and that was exactly what he'd tell me if I told him.

"Maybe," he said, retaking his seat next to me. "But you got nothing to lose then. If I agree, then you already knew that, but maybe it isn't stupid after all."

"But if it is, you'll probably just make fun of me."

"Nope." He shook his head firmly and put and arm around me. "Not today at least. If you say something stupid tomorrow, well then I'll tease you for a year, but today you get a hall pass."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I'll probably regret it in a second, but yeah, I promise."

I twirled a hair around my hair anxiously and tried to find the right words. "I've just been thinking about how things could be different if she were here, you know…" I trailed off. This was awkward to talk about and pointless because wishful thinking wouldn't stop Aunt Rita from coming.

"That's not stupid."

I looked up. His expression was somber, so I knew he really meant it.

"I think about that too sometimes," he added.

His admission caught me by surprise. Of course he thought about her. Anybody would think about their dead mother sometimes, but he didn't seem the type to dwell on something he couldn't change. I always wound up feeling sorry for myself whenever I started that nonsense, and Steve hated it when people felt sorry for themselves.

"Don't beat yourself up over that," he told me. "If anything, it's stupid you think that's stupid."

I wiped the tears off my cheeks and thought about what he said, and with each passing second, the urge to leave intensified. "I … I think I'm gonna go get a glass of water." I sprang off the bed and let the blanket fall to the floor.

"Hold it." He caught me and held me in front of him by my wrists. "You don't get to run just yet."

"Why not?" I whined, pulling away as hard as I could, but I accomplished nothing more than exhausting myself.

He released his hold and patted the space beside him.

I could've used the opportunity to run, but I gave in, settled myself back on the bed, and crossed my arms so I could at least get one dig in.

"We gotta talk about a few things before Aunt Rita comes," he said. "Don't really know when she's coming. Charlie didn't exactly give us a timeline. Could be this afternoon for all we fucking know, so we gotta get a few things straight now."

He looked so serious it made my crawl. "Why?"

"'Cause I did some thinking last night, and I think it'll make it easier for both of us," he said, voice hoarse.

Now he caught my interest, but I still didn't see how anything he'd thought of would help us any.

"I know you're worried about her coming, but don't be," he went on. "Nothing's gonna change much."

That was bullshit. "Everything'll change."

He shook his head stubbornly. "The only person you're gonna have to listen to is me. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't listen to her at all."

"She ain't gonna like that." What was he stupid? There was no way that'd make for a pleasant stay.

"That's kinda the point," he said. "And honest, I don't care. She'll have to deal with it."

"But that'll just make everything worse, Steve," I tried to reason with him, but it was no use.

"I don't care," he repeated himself. "The last thing I want her thinking is she's won something over you."

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," he persisted. "You know she thinks Charlie's a screw up father, so you _know_ she's gonna try to prove something to him. Try to tell him he never should've taken us away from her in the first place or something like that, but we're not gonna let her."

I thought about what he said real hard and realized he was right, but that still didn't make me any less nervous. Steve was never subtle about the way he told off people. He'd piss her off within her first ten minutes of her arrival, and then every chance she got, she'd pull me away from him and talk my ear off about what a bad influence he was on me.

I started to shiver again, thinking about it. Whether from the nerves or simply a coincidence that my body had grown cold, I didn't know, but my teeth chattered something awful.

Steve lifted the blanket off the floor and draped it around me. "Listen, Julia," he started again. "She's old. She can't do anything to you as long as I'm here."

"But you won't be here all the time," I pointed out. "Steve, you're always going to work, or Soda's, or doing something with Evie."

"Well, I'll just have to try to be here more then."

"You really mean that?" I asked, my hopes lifting.

"I do." He gave me a weak smile. "Heck, Leroy liked my friends fine. Imagine how she'll like them."

That was a horrid idea, but I couldn't help but smirk. Imagining Aunt Rita in the same room as Two-Bit was funny. She'd either hate him, or he'd fool her into thinking he was a model friend for Steve.

"See?" He raised an eyebrow to let me know he'd noticed the smirk. "As long as you don't let Angela land you into any serious trouble, you'll be fine."

God, Aunt Rita would love Angela, but of course, he was referring to how much trouble I'd get into with him if he caught me doing things with her, not what Aunt Rita would think. Still, the thought was maybe even more amusing than Aunt Rita meeting Two-Bit.

Aunt Rita had high standards for how she thought young women should act, and Angela would break each and every one of those standards. I decided right then, even if Steve hated it, Angela had to come over just so I could see Aunt Rita's reaction to her. It'd be too good to miss.

"So you feeling better from last night?" he asked.

"Yeah," I told him, and I felt a little less embarrassed now too.

"Good."

We sat there for a while, not saying much of anything to each other. There wasn't much to say. I could tell he still worried, and considering how big of a wreck I'd been, I couldn't blame him. I thought about assuring him I felt better again, but by the time I'd worked up the courage to speak, we heard Dad come home.

Steve got up, and I trailed behind him all the way to the living room, still wrapped in the blanket.

"So, she's up now," Dad said, pointing to me. Apparently he'd been home earlier today.

I gave Steve a funny look, wondering why he didn't bother to mention that.

"Yeah, and she's fine," Steve told him.

Dad gave me a look like he didn't trust Steve's answer, but he didn't push it any further. "Julia, I wanna talk to your brother," he said. "Can you go to your room for a bit?"

I nodded, but I didn't go. I lingered in the hallway, far enough so they couldn't see me, close enough enough I could still hear every word.

"I think I'm gonna leave today," I heard Dad say, and my stomach dropped to my feet. That meant Aunt Rita would be here within days.

"Why the hell're you doin' this in the first place, Charlie?" Steve's voice ripped through the air. "And don't tell me it's a goddamned job. You could've found one here. Tulsa's a big enough city there'd be something if you bothered looking hard enough."

"It ain't just that, Steve…" Dad's voice wavered as he spoke. "I think it might be good for you and Julia both to get a break from me. Might be good for me to get away too.

"Don't talk like that."

"Christ, just look at your sister… I can't even do right by her anymore. Not much of a reason for me to stick around when it just makes things worse."

"Damn it, don't be ridiculous." Steve sounded so mad, it was tempting to bolt out there in case he started beating on Dad again. "Christ, you drunk?"

"No," Dad shot back, his defensive tone solid proof Steve's accusation was right. "I ain't drunk!"

"Bullshit, I can smell it on you, and you're talkin' like a goddamned idiot again. It ain't hard to put two and two together!"

I heard a hit and grimaced, though I couldn't be sure who hit who.

I gulped and ran out there before I lost the courage to do it. "Stop it, both of you," I screamed at them.

Dad had his hands on Steve, and I realized it was him who'd thrown the punch. He let go of Steve and charged towards me. "I told you to go to your room."

"She's just worried, Charlie." Steve stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "No use hollering at her for that."

"I ain't drunk…" he muttered to himself and backed up a foot or two. "I ain't drunk, damn it."

I wasn't sure what made me so foolish at that moment, but I yanked myself out of Steve's arms and rushed at him. "You are too drunk, you bastard."

Steve lunged after me, but not soon enough. A sharp pain ripped through the side of my face and I stumbled down before I realized he'd slapped me. The shook immobilized me for a few seconds, and when I finally sat up, the physical pain alone produced a waterfall of tears.

Steve thrust Dad against the wall and punched him once, hard enough he doubled over. I watched on, terrified I'd see a repeat of the night Dad wound up in the hospital, but Dad didn't fight back, and Steve never threw a second punch.

He picked Dad up by his shoulders and pushed him towards the door. "You said you were gonna leave today," he said. "Why don't you go ahead and do that now?"

Steve came over to me and helped me to my feet. I latched myself to his side and eyed Dad.

"Julia … I … I'm … I'm so sorry." He broke down the same had had in the hospital room, maybe even worse, but it had little effect on me this time.

Maybe deep down I wanted to feel bad for him, but my cheek still throbbed and I wanted him to know he'd hurt me. "Just go," I told him.

"I didn't mean to hit you."

He took a few steps towards us and tried to pull me away from my brother. It was just to hug me, and I knew that, but I still cowered away and clung to Steve.

"Please, honey," he begged. "I didn't mean to."

"But you still did."

"It was an accident, I swear," he kept trying, sounding so desperate I almost cracked.

"She doesn't need this right now," Steve told him coolly. "Go."

That was all the fuel Dad needed to lose it all over again. "And you think you know what she needs?" he boomed. "God forbid I could do anything by her without you butting your head and telling me I'm doing it wrong… Jesus, if I didn't know any better I'd say she hates me because you _tell_ her to!"

"Charlie, I swear—" Steve yelled, but I interrupted him before he could finish.

"I don't hate you," I screeched loud enough to grab their attention. "I don't. I just…"

I faltered. Glory, every time I'd ever wondered if I was the biggest point of contention between them, I'd been right, and it made me sick to think about. It just fueled Dad's resentment towards Steve tenfold. No wonder he wanted to kick him out all the time.

"I don't hate you," I repeated myself amidst silence. My yell had silenced them both.

Dad ran a hand over his face. "I … I'm sorry," he apologized again, but it still didn't feel like enough.

I wanted my words to get to him, and I thought long and hard for the thing that would hurt him the most. "Don't blame Steve for anything." I took a deep breath and reminded myself how frustrated I was before I could change my mind. "Blame yourself, 'cause Steve's more of a father to me than you've ever been."

Dad didn't say anything. Before I could get a good look at his face, he hurried towards his room and emerged with a packed bag minutes later. He left without saying goodbye, slamming the door behind him, and I think Steve and I both knew it'd be the last time we'd see him in weeks.

Glory, I worried something awful. I just had to hurl that at him, and now he'd be out on the road, drunk and wondering about what I'd told him. He could get in a car crash, and though it was his fault for being drunk, I'd still want to blame myself. Maybe it was too mean, even if it was a hundred percent true.

Steve tilted my chin up and ran his hand over my cheek, extra careful not to cause me more pain. "Christ, that's gonna bruise."

I could've told him that from the way it felt, but it was oddly nice to know he was concerned about it.

"Let's get you some ice, huh?" He didn't wait for an answer and drug me straight to the kitchen.

He had me sit down and handed me a bag he'd wrapped in a cloth.

I held it to my cheek and watched him pull up a chair beside me.

He looked awfully uncomfortable. I ignored it for the longest time, telling myself he was just angry Dad had slapped me, but the pained expression finally grew too much to tolerate. "What?"

"You really mean what you said back there?" He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm damn proud you stood up to him an' all … But you really think that?"

I nodded. I swore he knew—what with insisting I only listen to him while Aunt Rita was here and all—but I guess he didn't. He was stunned, and I couldn't tell if it was a good kind of stunned or a bad kind of stunned. Maybe it was just too overwhelming to hear.

The awkward silence grew until he finally broke it by changing the subject. "Evie's coming over later."

That cheered me up for two reasons: one, because I really did like her, and two, because I could find out what was really going on in my brother's complicated head.

All I had to do was eavesdrop on them. He told her everything; it was bound to come out at some point.

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If you could spare just a few seconds to review, it would be the most amazing pick me up ever. Maybe even a few of you I haven't heard from in a while could be so generous as to let me know you're still here… ? ;)


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

To anon reviewer "Jen" and any curious others: No, no, I love all reviews equally, anonymous or signed! I just love reviews period. In my previous note, I was only replying to the accusations I'm apparently reviewing my story anonymously. But no, go right ahead and review anonymously if it suits you. I appreciate all feedback I receive equally!

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews, everyone! Things are still kind of hectic for me, so I didn't have time to reply to you unfortunately. I always like to do that before I update, but I figured if it came down to it you'd probably rather I updated instead of waiting, haha. So here's the update! I'll get to replies later tonight, I hope. :)

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Steve was overwhelmingly nice to me that afternoon. Maybe it was because one side of my face looked twice as swollen as the other, but I didn't care why. It was nice to spend time with him and not have him annoyed by my presence, even if we were just being lazy and watching TV.

He let me curl up beside him and use his shoulder as a headrest, which was reassuring and stopped me from bawling again. I was quite an anxious wreck. If I thought about the dull pain in my cheek too long, my eyes watered and my lip quivered. It reminded me of Dad. Not just what he'd done to me either; no, the way he stormed off without saying goodbye, and I wondered how he could just leave us when he had no idea when his aunt would get here. Not that I wanted her to come, but you'd think a father would worry about that kind of stuff. I guess he trusted Steve, which was funny; he trusted Steve to look after me—expected it even and took it for granted more often than not—but at the same time, he resented him for it. I hated that. It was an awful position to put Steve in, and maybe even worse for me because as I'd said earlier, I was always the middle between them. Without fail, I was _always_ the middle.

"How're you feeling?" Steve asked.

It caught me by surprise. He was awfully silent since Dad left, and for a while I thought we wouldn't talk much period until Evie came. "I dunno," I told him, unsure what else I could say. He'd call bullshit if I told him I was fine, but if I told him how I really felt, he'd think I was being overdramatic. Maybe I was too, but whatever I was feeling right now was very real to me.

It was just this insane exhaustion had fallen over me and kept me stationary. I had no desire to leave Steve's side and would probably stay there as long as he let me. Sure, the exhaustion started when I woke up, but Dad slapping me tipped it over the edge. It was the second time he'd slapped me across the face like that, and it bothered me a lot; maybe even more than the first time because I thought it'd never happen again. Not that he was father of the year by any means and God knows how many times he'd punished me by spanking me or something like that, but I had an awful time letting this go. My cheek was bruised now, and it was his fault.

I shut my eyes for a brief second and tried to quit thinking about it. God, I was oversensitive. He didn't just slap Steve, he punched him like he was beating on an enemy and not his son. To be fair, Steve beat on him right back, and maybe initiated the spat most of the time, but it made me wonder how Steve felt. It must've been downright awful to have your father punch you like that, even _if_ you started the fight.

"Julia." Steve pinched my arm enough to make me cringe. "How do you not know?"

The annoyance in his voice told me it wasn't the first time he'd asked. I zoned out. This wasn't my day, yesterday wasn't either, and I didn't have high hopes for tomorrow, but Steve didn't like it when I whined like that. "I … I don't know," I said indignantly, a couple tears sliding down my cheeks.

He shook his head and sighed. "We really need to toughen you up… C'mon, life can't be this hard, so quit acting so damn dramatic about everything. Jesus, you'd think the world was coming to an end with you sometimes." Despite his offensive words, he simultaneously gathered me into a hug. I tried to focus on that and not the insults.

"I can't help it," I whispered.

"You can," he said. "And I want you to promise me something too."

I nodded. I didn't even know what it was yet, but he could probably make me promise him anything right now. I wondered if he knew that, and if he was using his affection just to manipulate me. I wanted to be mad about that. I really did, but I couldn't. The secure feeling to know he cared about me this much overpowered that, and all little brothers and sisters just wanted to know their big brothers and sisters were proud of them. It was an annoying kind of influence in a way because it gave him an unfair edge. I could forgive his bossiness in exchange for that, even when I didn't want to.

"If you're gonna get all weird on me or freak out, warn me first," he said.

"Okay."

"I'm a little less scary than you think, you know." He squeezed me tighter for a moment and released me. "I'd rather you not turn into a little Rosie, so talk to me before you feel like going insane, yeah?"

I didn't say anything to that. He shouldn't ever compare me to her; not even if he was trying to tell me I could talk to him no matter what. "Well, sorry I'm so dramatic," I finally said.

"You're not that bad, kid," he said, holding back a laugh. "Don't get me wrong. You make me wanna wring your neck with how annoying you are sometimes, but at least you're not as whiney as Two-Bit's little sister…"

The way he said it told me so much about how he felt about Rachel, and it wasn't positive.

"I mean, holy shit, I oughta apologize to Pony," he added. "Renee, or Rachel, or whatever the hell her name is… She is officially the whiniest brat of a kid I know. Makes you and him look like nothin', and y'all can be pretty damn whiney."

I wasn't sure if I should be offended by his backhanded remark or relieved he didn't think I was the worst. "So I'm only sorta a whiney brat?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "If you wanna look at it like that, yeah. Only sorta."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, I guess."

"Anytime."

I wanted to punch him for being such a smartass, but I let it go. Today had been a rough day, and it was relieving to be arguing about something pointless and stupid again.

xxxx

"Holy shit, what happened?" It was the first thing Evie said to me after Steve let her in.

She leaned close to my face to look at my cheek and pulled away with a disgusted expression.

"Quite the shiner, huh?" Steve said. "Charlie gave it to her."

She didn't say anything and simply pulled me into a quick hug. I could tell what she was thinking though; how could he do something so awful looking? Over the course of the afternoon, it was starting to change colors, surprising even me. I knew it was bad because it'd hurt something awful, but I didn't think he'd hit quite me this hard. I wondered what Aunt Rita would think when she got here, or the kids and teachers at school. I'd lie. I decided right then, I'd come up with a good cover story, maybe even one that made me look tough, and no one except Angela would know I was lying. She knew what lies like that sounded like because she'd told a fair number of them herself, but she was too busy terrorizing her new Catholic school.

"Glory, I can't believe he did this," Evie said. "Not sayin' he's a saint, but Christ, I didn't think he had it in him to do _this_. I hope he feels awful."

"I think he does," I told her in a quiet voice.

"He's gone now," Steve broke in fast, like he wanted to get off the subject. "Up and left, the coward."

Again, she was silent, but her facial expression conveyed so much.

A moment later, Steve combed a hand through his hair and moved close to Evie. "Well, I'm awful sorry, babe, but you're gonna have to put up with my annoying little sister being around tonight."

A wave of annoyance crept through me. I wasn't that annoying, and I smiled one hell of a satisfied smile when she defended me. "Don't listen to him. He's a jerk." She leaned in close to my ear and whispered soft enough only I could hear her. "Don't tell him, but sometimes I think you're more fun than him."

It was a lie. I knew how much she liked my brother, but I still appreciated the kindness.

Steve wasn't too happy about the "secret", however, and went on to pester us both about it forever. He just couldn't let it go, and even when Evie finally told him the truth, he insisted it must've been something else. Me and Evie got a real kick out of it though, so it was good for something.

The only thing bad thing about the evening was eavesdropping proved harder than I thought it would be, which when I really thought about it, was hardly anything to get disappointed about. Or at least it shouldn't have been. I was secretly annoyed, but not annoyed enough I'd turn down the offer to hang out with them, an offer that honestly made me question my brother's sanity a little. It was nice though. Even though they refused to talk about anything private and interesting in front of me, I had a good time. We ordered a pizza for supper and watched the movie on ABC's _Saturday Night at the Movies_. It was some movie about a Mars invasion or something, more entertaining than the stuff on the other two channels, but not enough I could stay awake for it all.

I curled up on the armchair away from them in case they decided to make out or something and drifted in and out of consciousness. Every so often I'd hear them and hope it was something exciting, but I guess they only wanted to talk about boring things—or worse, awkward things. That's why I had no issues letting myself fall asleep.

The next time I woke up, I regretted that. Now they were talking about what I wanted to hear, and I missed the first part of it. I kept my eyes shut and tried to take in what I could, which wasn't much. They were talking kind of quietlike, so I had to focus hard.

"Yeah, and that's a problem," I heard Steve say. _What_ was the problem though? What I'd told Dad? I missed that part, but I knew it was about me because I heard my name tossed around a few times.

Regardless, Evie was frustrated with Steve for some reason. She kept disagreeing with him, and you could hear the frustration build and build. "How can you even say that?" she finally spoke loud enough I could hear every word. "You think pretty low of him, and I know you don't think that low of yourself, so that sounds like a load of crap, Steve."

"I'm right though," Steve insisted, also raising his voice. "I yell at her all the time. Maybe even more than him, and I've even hit her a couple times. Fuck, that sound like model _father_ material to you? Why the hell would she think that?"

Evie said something, but I didn't catch all of it. "Well, I fucking wish she didn't," Steve kept on, just as loud and adamant as ever. "I know she gets weird and freaked out when I leave. You oughta see the look on her face sometime, but what am I supposed to do? It ain't my fault Charlie can't get his priorities straight, so I go anyway… But God, I don't wanna have to think she thinks something like that."

"So you don't like that you might have to feel bad now?"

"No," he shot back, but it might as well have been a resounding yes.

"Sure sounds like it."

"Well, obviously you didn't listen close enough then," he said. "I'm just sayin' I'm kinda an ass to her."

"That's the exact same thing, Steve. You don't wanna have to feel bad you're an ass to her sometimes. Just admit I'm right and move on."

"No!"

"Well, too bad," she said definitively. "I ain't arguin' with you about this anymore. For what it's worth, I agree with her, so you can either accept that or keep thinking those things that make absolutely no fucking sense."

"It makes perfect sense," he retorted.

"Does it really matter, Steve?" she asked with a sigh. "Whatever the hell you think, she'll still think the same things about you. Like I said, she looks up to you."

"And like I said, it's a goddamned fucking _problem_."

"Well, what're you gonna do about it then? Be meaner to her? Make her hate you?"

"Maybe," he grumbled, but it was pretty obvious it was only because he wanted to be right. He was insane. He was so stubborn, he'd rather be right about thinking awful things about himself than admit he was wrong, and what he thought offended me slightly.

It wasn't any easier for me than him. No one wanted to resent their own father. It hurt me a little to say what I did, not to mention it came out all awkward; it was forced on my part. I crafted it on purpose to hurt Dad, and it hurt because there was a lot of truth behind it, but I didn't think Steve would get like this. Even though he was probably full of all sorts of misplaced anger and couldn't mean everything he said, it still hurt he wanted to reject that.

Honestly he was more of an annoying, bossy, and just all around irritating older brother than anything else, but was he reliable. That was what gave him the edge over Dad. When it really counted, he came through, and with Dad, you just never knew. Dad liked to make promises he never kept to the point where all bullshit promises should just be renamed Charlie promises. Glory, I couldn't count the billion times he apologized, sometimes with one heck of a convincing apology and always a promise it wouldn't happen again, but sure enough, it did. Maybe not for a while, maybe not for a very long time, but none of his promises meant anything to me anymore. Steve only made promises he could keep. It didn't result in him making a whole lot of promises, but he kept them, and that said a lot. He never apologized unless he really meant it either. I could count on one hand the number of times he'd given me an honest "I'm sorry" apology.

I stopped paying attention to what they said. It wasn't even about me anymore, but I didn't want to hear it in case it would be. I guess that was the price tag for eavesdropping; sometimes you didn't like what you heard.

I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes to give them the illusion I'd been asleep. Steve told me to go to bed almost instantly. Clearly he was self-conscious about what I did or didn't hear, but I didn't argue with him. I just went to bed.

xxxx

The next few days proved Evie's side of the argument one hundred percent right; as it turned out, he was only frustrated he wasn't living up to what I thought of him. I didn't get it—why he doubted himself this much. To me, it seemed like he was bossy just to spite Dad. He was arrogant about a lot of things, so it made sense he wanted to prove himself better than Dad, and I thought if anything, my words would make him more proud of his efforts. He won the ultimate victory over Charlie. He should be happy, but he wasn't.

He made efforts to be kinder, which ended up more awkward than positive for both of us. He'd already made efforts, so now he was just stretching for things and acting ridiculous. Namely he tried to cuss less. Obviously that would never last, but he also got uptight about stupid parent type things he would've otherwise not gave a shit about. For example, me eating a bowl of ice cream for breakfast. None of it lasted long. By Thursday night, he gave up and decided we would both eat insane amounts of junk food for supper, and I was damn glad. So marked the end of whatever the hell this was. It might've been the most annoying he'd ever been in his entire life, so I welcomed the old grouchy Steve when he remerged. I welcomed that pessimistic asshole back with open arms.

He'd irritated me enough I made plans with Angela behind his back. If I'd known he was going to ditch the stupid act earlier, I wouldn't have, but now that the night had arrived, I needed a night out with her. Even if it meant putting up with her antics, it'd be worth it. I just needed out of the house to anywhere that wasn't school. School was a pain this week. Everyone had to stare at my bruise and of course they wanted to know how I got it—I slipped in the shower and hit my cheek on the faucet, I said. I actually did that once so it seemed believable.

Tonight was going to make up for everything though. She was going out with Bryon and his friends, meaning Pony might be there. Plus my bruise had faded enough I could cover it with makeup, but the best part was, I was smart about my plans. I wouldn't get caught tonight. I made them for Friday on purpose because I knew Steve worked a long shift then.

After Steve dropped me off at home and went to work, I got busy picking out an outfit and braided my hair into a nice style, but by the time I got to makeup, the worst thing ever happened.

Aunt Rita and Leroy showed up.

When I heard them, I quick cleaned everything off my face and hurried to greet them. My heart thumped fast, nervous the day had unfortunately arrived, and watched as they carried in all sorts of things. "Oh my, Julia, what happened to your face?" she asked.

I gave her the same story I gave my classmates, and she apparently believed it, because she just went right on carrying in loads pictures and other stupid trinkets.

I looked at them funny, which sent her into an infamous rant about the way things needed to be. "I just knew your father's house would be a barren nightmare," she told me. " He couldn't take care of a house if he tried!"

I rolled my eyes and helped her carry the rest of the bullshit in, which also included a ton of cleaning supplies. "Just like at this place," she carried on raving about how lazy my dad was. "I knew it'd be an awful mess. Didn't I say that, Leroy?"

Leroy nodded. I guess he was too afraid to think otherwise.

"I thought this could wait until tomorrow, but boy, this is even worse than I thought," she said. "I hope you're ready to clean, Julia. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

I shook my head. "I, um, had plans with a friend of mine after school today…"

"Oh, well, then, you can play with your friends after we're done.

I gritted my teeth and thought about what Steve said about me not needing to listen to her. "I didn't know you were coming today. Isn't it a little rude to make me cancel plans I already made with somebody _just_ for you?"

"If you talk back to me again, young lady, I won't let you go anywhere when we're done."

I sighed loudly, which she either didn't hear or chose to ignore, and decided to just go along with it Angela was meeting me here, so I could at least look forward to Aunt Rita's reaction to her.

"Isn't Leroy gonna help us?" I asked her about ten minutes into the project. Leroy was lying on the couch, and it shocked me she wasn't the least bit bothered by it.

"No."

I thought my head might explode when she gave me no further explanation. "Why?" I demanded.

"Trust me, he'll have plenty of other responsibilities later," she assured me. "And it's good it's just me and you. I can show you how to clean properly so your home won't be an absolute disgrace one day. You can't count on a husband to do that. Men have no concept of what clean really is."

My brother's friends were pretty disgusting, so I could see how that might be partially true, but it still irritated me she didn't make Leroy do anything. She just barked out orders at me and scolded me when I didn't do it the way she described. God, she had a lot of standards for how cleaning was supposed to happen, and by the time Angela finally showed up, I couldn't have been more relieved to see her.

I ran to the door before Aunt Rita could stop me. I smirked as I opened it, prepared to see Angela in her usual going out attire, but she was still in her school uniform, which was about a million times more decent than her other outfits and not shocking at all to Aunt Rita.

"You must be Julia's friend," Aunt Rita said behind me. She stepped forward to greet Angela.

Angela had a pleasant look on her face with a certain air of smugness behind it. "You must be Julia's aunt. I've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Randle."

I gave Angela a funny look, wondering why Angela wanted to take the polite route. She must've just formed a manipulative plan to justify it; it was the only possible explanation.

"Julia and I were just doing some housework," Aunt Rita explained. "I love my nephew dearly, but he unfortunately hasn't a clue how to keep his house tidy."

"I've often thought the same thing," Angela remarked. "He's a very lucky nephew you were kind enough to take care of it for him, ma'am."

Aunt Rita beamed. Angela had won over her affection, and I couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a very bad one. "I hope you don't mind if I take Julia from you, Mrs. Randle," Angela went on. "I know you have her busy with chores, but we promised a good friend of ours we'd be at her house in ten minutes. See, her cat died today, so she'd be awfully upset if we were late."

_Of all the bullshit stories_, Angela, I thought, _of all the bullshit stories_… But Aunt Rita ate it right up. "Oh no, that's fine, dear," she assured Angela and turned to me. "You should've told me about your friend's cat, Julia."

"Rachel's cat died?" I asked Angela, playing along.

It worked. Aunt Rita let me stop cleaning just like that.

As I changed into tonight's outfit—for the sake of not pissing off Aunt Rita, it was lucky it was modest—I listened to the sounds of Angela engaging in more polite conversation with my aunt. I couldn't tell what they were saying behind the shut door, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say Angela had become Aunt Rita's new favorite person in a matter of minutes. It was impressive and scary.

When I emerged, Aunt Rita sent me on my way with instructions to give Rachel her condolences about her "cat". I couldn't believe it. I still couldn't believe it. This was not how I pictured Angela and Aunt Rita's first meeting at all.

As soon as we were about a block away from my house, Angela turned to me, the pleasant expression now gone. "You're fucking welcome," she said. "Jesus Christ, that old hag would have a heart attack if she knew what we were really doing tonight."

"Um, what exactly are we doing tonight, Angel? I thought we were just hanging out with Byron and stuff..."

She just grinned a snide grin and said the same two words she always said whenever I asked her that: "You'll see."

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Of course I'd love to hear from you all again. Anonymous or signed, however you prefer. ;) It just makes me so happy to know who's still reading, so please keep reviewing! haha.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Sorry for not reply to you guys or some of you I've PM'd! I don't know about you, but the site is being such a little shit for me, but only in my account area oddly. Stories are loading fine, but anything else is like 90's dialup slow and times out... I wanted to thank you, but FF is being mean! Ah!

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Angela led me straight to her house instead of our eventual destination, which was both annoying and relieving. On one hand, I wanted to know what we were doing; on the other, I thought I'd rather never know. All of her plans ended in disaster for me, and something told me I'd been too confident I couldn't get caught.

When we walked through the entryway, she looked less than impressed to be home, and I didn't blame her. Today's big show was an infamous Tim and Curly showdown, and I had to admit their fights scared me. When they went at each other, it was brutal, but the scariest part was they could go from being at each other's throats to getting along in a matter of minutes, and I'd never understood how guys could do that. My brother was like that with his friends sometimes, but Tim and Curly topped him in intensity any day, unless, of course, he was fighting with our father.

Angela rolled her eyes and gave each of her brothers a harder than necessary shove to convey her dissatisfaction as she tore past them.

Tim pulled her back by the collar of her shirt and cuffed her upside the head lightly. "Stay out of it."

He pointed to her room, and she flipped him off in response. Curly laughed, which made Tim pin him up against the wall.

I lingered by the entryway and tried to figure out what the big fight was all about in the first place. Tim was clearly pissed at Curly about something. "None of this is funny." Tim's voice echoed through the room. "None of this is fucking funny. Especially not what you did with Paul this afternoon."

Curly managed to break free for a second and shoved Tim away. "Cool it, Tim. Like I said, nobody got caught."

"Nobody got caught, nobody got caught," Tim mocked back. "You're a lucky son of a bitch nobody got caught. God, you're a moron. You got out of your sentence early, and this is what you do with yourself?"

I swallowed and tried to find the courage to walk past them, but all I could think about was how that could be me and Steve if were a boy. I could be in Curly's shoes right now, and Steve could be itching to give me a black eye. I thought about that a lot, way more than I should, and every time, I got hung up on the thought of what Steve could do to me and forgot to be thankful I was a girl.

"God, Julia." Angela marched over to me, grabbed my arm and started dragging upstairs towards to her bedroom. "Just ignore them."

I glanced back. Curly had just punched Tim, and now he was gonna get his ass handed to him for sure. I winched for him, and Angela yanked on my arm harder.

"What're they arguing about anyway?" I asked.

"Who gives a fuck." She pulled me into her room and slammed the door behind us. "Tim's just hacked Curly had enough charm to get himself out early when he's never been able to. Whatever the thinks he's pissed about, that's probably still the _real _reason."

"You sure?" It seemed stupid to ask. These were her brothers, not mine, and I shouldn't care about it this much.

She ignored me, so I let it go and plopped down on her bed.

Angela opened her closet and pieced through the clothes, flinging one hanger past the other awful fast. Everything she owned looked nicer than the simple outfit I was wearing, but apparently she didn't think so. The look on in her eyes said nothing was good enough.

After a few minutes, she'd selected something; a very low-cut red blouse and black miniskirt, and probably the shortest she owned at that.

I looked away as she undressed. We were both girls and knew each other well enough it wasn't a big deal, but it was still awkward, especially now that she was two thousand times more developed than me. As I stared at my feet, I told myself I'd become a woman a couple weeks out to make myself feel better, but then I remembered I still looked like a little girl, and the fear I'd be stuck in this body forever resurfaced. So much for feeling better.

I looked up, figuring she'd had more than another time to redress herself, and rejoiced she was applying make-up now, but my relief didn't last long. The way she bent over to see herself in the vanity mirror made her skirt ride up enough you could see her panties. I stood up immediately, hoping it was just the angle I was seated at. God, I didn't need to see _that_. "Don't you think that's a little too short, Angel? Like even for you short?" I felt like a prude lecturing her about it, but it was terrible. There was no way she could even feel comfortable in that skimpy thing.

She flipped around and propped a hand on her hip. "You startin' at my ass, Julia?"

I blushed. Not on purpose, but the way she'd said it sounded so accusatory. "No!"

She smirked, telling me she'd meant to embarrass me, and pointed to her makeup arsenal. "Help yourself to whatever you want." She turned back to the mirror. "We're going on a double date tonight."

"Double date?" I questioned.

"Mhmm," she said. "I know you fancy, Ponyboy, so I suggest you make yourself look cute." She pushed the makeup towards me and I gave her a confused look. I thought she liked Pony…

I curled my lip under my teeth and started piecing through her makeup bag for cover-up or foundation. Something to cover this hideous bruise up at least, but her skin was a slightly different shade than mine. She had a natural glow to her skin she didn't need make up to enhance, and mine was just dull.

She stopped applying her eyeliner and slapped my hand away from the bag. "Here," she said a second later, handing me a bottle of foundation. "Stole the wrong color once. You can just have it. It looked good the one time I put it on you."

I took it from her and started putting it on my face with my fingers. There was probably a better way to do it. Judging by the look she gave me, I'm sure there was, but I ignored her and continued doing it my way, paying close attention to covering my cheek.

I set the foundation down and reexamined my face quick to be sure I'd covered every inch.

"So how'd you really get that bruise?" she asked.

"I already told you." I told her the bullshit story the day we'd met afterschool to make plans for tonight. She'd given me a doubtful look but didn't push the issue. For as brash and forceful as she was, she knew when it was and wasn't a good time to talk about certain things.

She didn't say anything, but the way she stared at me ate through me. It was a cross between concern and annoyance I'd tried to lie to her, and unable to stand the tension, I cracked. "My dad." I swallowed, not sure I wanted to say anything more. Those two words felt like enough.

Her eyes softened and corners of her mouth drooped a little. "Yeah, I thought it might be that…"

"I, um… I called him out on being drunk, and he did that," I added. My eyes teared up as I spoke. To admit what he'd done to me out loud reopened the wound all over again, and I felt like a giant baby, knowing she'd been hit worse countless times.

She pulled me into a close hug before she said anything else. "You can stay here tonight if you want," she told me. "I know it ain't much better than your house, but you can't be all that happy your aunt finally came."

Touched by the kindness of her offer, a few tears slid down my cheeks. I stopped them instantly and pulled away from her. "Okay," I agreed, even if I had to find a way to make that okay with Steve later. Hopefully he'd take off for the Curtis's the moment he saw Aunt Rita.

"So a double date?" I asked to change the subject. "Where're we going?"

"Buck's."

My stomach dropped the moment I registered the word. Why did she _always_ want to go there? "You sure Pony's coming? I mean, he's nice and all, but he wouldn't wanna go on a date with me…"

"He doesn't know you're coming."

"Does he know we're going to Buck's?" I remembered how Soda told me he'd never let his kid brother near the place the night he found me there and punched Larry. He sounded awful serious when he said it too.

She didn't answer my question. "Close your eyes," she barked at me instead and picked up eye shadow, looking at me expectantly.

I sighed and shut my eyes; she did makeup better than me anyway.

When she was done, I looked awful. Not nearly as painted up as her, but when I looked in the mirror, it didn't feel like it was me staring back, and somehow I just knew I'd feel more self-consciousness with makeup on my face in front of Ponyboy than without. He didn't seem like the type that was into a girl who wore lots of makeup. Not that I wanted to impress him or anything, but it'd just be awkward. I groaned inwardly and let it go. A "date" with him was bound to be awkward in the first place.

Angela threw a thick sweater over her blouse, put on a pair of stockings and yanked her skirt down a couple inches.

I gave her a funny look. "To get past Tim," she told me with incredulous look. "And it's December, you idiot. In other words, cold."

She tossed a sweater of hers at me, and I readily took it, knowing it'd get much, much colder as soon as it got dark

As soon as I'd put it on, she hooked her arm in mine and led me back downstairs. I was surprised to see Curly and Tim were already over their fight and watching something on the TV together.

Angela and I walked past them quietly, but of course Tim noticed.

"Hold it," he stopped us right before we reached the door.

He pulled Angela aside. "Where're you going?" he demanded.

"Julia's," she said.

He turned to me. Damn it, why was it always on me to confirm whether or not she was lying? I didn't need that kind of pressure. Tim was scary; I didn't wanna lie to him.

"It's true," I told him, doing my best to appear calm.

He didn't seem to buy it.

"She wouldn't be dressed that nice if she was doing anything else, Tim," Curly called out from the couch.

Tim glared at him and shifted his gaze back to Angela. "If you're lyin' to me…" he started.

Angela rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Julia." She grabbed me and pulled me out the door with her.

I worried Tim would chase after us for the first two blocks we walked, but after three, I figured we were in the clear.

xxxx

I was right about my makeup. I didn't know what surprised Pony more: the fact he was seeing me, or the fact he was seeing me in makeup. He didn't say anything about it, which I appreciated greatly, but he looked awfully uncomfortable when he saw me. Glory, it was weird. This whole "date" thing. It didn't feel like one to me, and I had to wonder what Angela's plan was in it all. Why was she setting me up with him when she wanted to be with him? Why was she setting me up with anybody in the first place when she knew I didn't wanna date anybody yet? She was frustrating and I kicked myself for thinking tonight wouldn't be frustrating.

"Wanna head outside?"

I turned and looked at Ponyboy. It must've been the first full sentence he'd spoken all night. Bryon and Angela talked away, but Pony just looked nervous the whole time, this this was the last place in the universe he wanted to be.

"Sure," I told him.

He looked relieved by my approval and started walking towards the doors fast. I trailed behind him.

He lit up a cigarette as soon as he outside and leaned against the side of the building. "Darry'd kill me if he saw me here." He exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke. "Soda too."

So that was why he was nervous… I couldn't say I blamed him. "Ditto with Steve, but he's at work tonight."

"Darry probably never comes here. Soda says he doesn't, but I know he does." He took another drag in the cigarette. "For all I know, he could be here now. Damn Bryon. He said said we were just goin' to The Dingo to shoot pool. Didn't know he was going to Buck's, or that he was bringing his girlfriend along or you."

"Oh…" My face flushed. I shouldn't expect him to be excited to see me, but it still kind of stung.

"Don't get me wrong," he caught himself quickly. "I'm glad you're here, but I wasn't expecting this."

"Me neither," I admitted, a little relieved to hear him say that. "Honest, I don't even know what I'm doin' here. I just wanted to get out."

He gave me a sympathetic nod. "Steve said something about your aunt coming. She sounds like a real pill."

"That ain't even the half of it." I sighed and leaned against the side of the building next to him. "She's crazy."

"Yeah, sounded like he really hated her."

Hate was an understatement; there weren't words in the English language that fully described his hate for her. "Well, let's just say he might even hate her more than Angela Shepard."

He thought that was funny for some reason because he started laughing. I laughed too; it'd have been embarrassing if I didn't.

"Speaking of her, wanna ditch them?" he asked.

I hesitated. After Angela had hugged me and told me I could spend the night at her house, it felt wrong to ditch her like this, but she'd done it to me countless times before, and Buck's was about the last place I wanted to be in first place… "I dunno," I said. Even if she'd done it to me, it felt wrong. I couldn't be a bad friend.

"It's alright if you don't want to," he told me.

"Thanks."

We stood there without saying a word to each other for several minutes. He smoked, and I watched people go in and out, most of which I didn't recognize, until my eyes locked on Larry's. He looked right at me so I knew he'd seen me, but not a second later, he whipped his head around to avoid looking at me and hustled inside. I wondered if Steve had something to him to scare the wits out of him or if Soda punching him the last time I was here had been enough. Either way, seeing him still made me all kinds of uncomfortable. I turned to Pony. "I changed my mind. Let's ditch 'em."

He gave me a weird look, like he was trying to discern what had just happened.

"Let's just go." I started walking away.

He followed me. "Where do you wanna go?" he asked.

"Anywhere," I told him.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine," I lied. "I just realized what a jerk Angela was is all."

He still looked awfully confused but didn't say anything more. As we walked on, I hugged Angela's sweater around me tighter. It was starting to get dark out, and I could see my breath in the air. To get my mind off Larry, I wondered how people could stand to live in other parts of the country where it snowed a lot, but the thought only distracted me so long.

A car slowed down and pulled up to the curb where we were walking. My heart raced, and I flinched when the door opened.

"Get in the car, both of you," someone bellowed at us.

I bolted away, but Pony caught my shoulder stopped me. "It's just Soda," he said, and when I turned around, I saw him there.

He looked pissed.

I glanced at Ponyboy, noticing face had gone ghost white, and my face paled to meet his color. Buck's wasn't even a full block behind us; we'd just been caught red-handed.

Soda opened the backdoor to the car, which I now recognized as Two-Bit's car and told us to get in. Pony got in first and I followed.

Soda shut the door as soon as I'd settled onto the seat, and Two-Bit flipped his head around, giving us both a snide grin. "Got a thing for Steve's little sis now, huh, Ponykid?" he teased, barely containing his laughter. "I'll be sure to tell Rachel. She'll be sooo jealous."

"Shut up, Two-Bit," Pony hissed.

Two-Bit winked at him and started the car.

"Take Julia home first," Soda told Two-Bit. He sounded even madder than he looked. He wasn't kidding when he told me he never wanted to see Pony at Buck's.

"Wait," I begged them as felt the car move. "My aunt got here tonight and she'll kill me."

Soda glared at me, but after a moment, his face softened a little. "Alright, fine," he grumbled.

"Thanks," I breathed, so relieved I could hardly stand it, but the relief only lasted so long. Somehow I just knew Soda would make sure my brother heard about this.

xxxx

When we got to the Curtis's, I ran to their bathroom as fast as I could to pee. It was partly because I had to pee and partly because I didn't want to hear Ponyboy get in trouble. I locked the door and sat in there a long time. It didn't matter; I could still hear the sounds of Darry scolding Pony for where he'd been clear as day. It sounded awful, and I decided I'd stay in here until it was over, afraid if I came out, Darry might start lecturing me too. I doubted it. He seemed like the time to only lecture his own kid sibling, but I didn't feel like finding out.

A fist rapped against the door a few times, and I jolted. "Hey, Julia, hurry it up in there." It was Soda's voice.

I took a deep breath, got up and opened the door. "How big of trouble is Ponyboy in?" I asked him anxiously.

"Darry'll probably ground him."

I took some relief in that. At least he didn't say tan his hide or something like that. I'd feel worse about tonight then; it was my fault we'd gotten caught, after all. If I'd have gone along with his idea of ditching them when he'd asked, we might've gotten far away enough from Buck's they'd have never spotted us.

"I hope so," Soda added. "I knew he was lying to me when he said he wasn't doing anything tonight, and lo and behold, I found him just where I thought I might…"

I nodded and tried my hardest not to think of my own brother.

"Listen, I'mma head to the DX in a minute and tell your brother your aunt's at your place now."

He sounded a little impatient, maybe even scared, and I didn't blame him for having to be the messenger about that, but as bad as I felt for him, I was selfish and thought mostly of myself. "You gonna tell him about where I was?" I asked.

"If you don't tell him first, I will."

"Soda, can we please just keep it a secret?" I begged him. "He's gonna be mad enough our aunt is here, and you know how mad he can get…"

Soda rubbed his forehead and I could tell he was giving it a lot of thought.

"Please, Soda," I kept on desperately. "You know how much he hates her. He'll kill me if he hears about where I was too."

Soda shook his head at me, and I frowned. I should've known his loyalty would be to my brother, but I'd given up on him too soon. "Alright fine," he agreed. "But _only _'cause your aunt just came. You do this again, and he can throttle you for all I care."

"Thanks, Soda." I thought about hugging him to express my gratitude, but that'd be too weird.

"C'mon," he said, motioning for me to follow him. "You should probably come with to tell Steve."

For a second I questioned his logic about that. Wouldn't Steve wonder why I was coming with him? I didn't argue with him though. It was a big thing he'd agreed not to tell Steve I'd been at Buck's, and I needed to be grateful for that. After all, it wasn't everyday Soda'd help me lie to my brother.

* * *

Reviews make me oh so happy, but you probably knew that already... :) I think I've heard from most of you in the last couple chapters. That's awesome! I haven't lost you yet. Yay! Please keep reviewing! I wish I didn't, but I get so anxious I've lost you as a reader when I don't hear from you in a while, haha.


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doin' this," Soda exclaimed as we pulled up to the DX.

He'd been silent the entire ride here, and I knew from my brother that Soda wasn't quiet often, which made me feel guilty. Here I was about to make him lie to his best friend. In many ways that made me just as big of a bitch as Angela, but I was too nervous to let Soda go back on that promise. If Steve found out about Buck's, I was dead, but with Soda's help, the situation wasn't hopeless. Soda had a way with him much like Evie did; they could tell him things and not have him lash out. It was like a superpower, I swear, one that I'd never been able to master. Being his little sister put me at an automatic disadvantage. I was always wrong no matter what I said or did. He was older, he was right, he was smarter, he was stronger, he was wiser… The list of things he topped me on went on and on and on, and he'd never take anything I had to say one hundred seriously.

_Just stop thinking about it._ I sighed and tried to find the energy to step out of Soda's truck, but my body felt limp against the seat. _Stop. It. Right. Now. _Through the giant glass window, I could see Steve next to the cash register, looking bored out of his mind. It must've been a slow night, and somehow I just knew the tedium of his job had put him in a foul mood. He hated it when his boss made him sit behind the counter and took it as an insult when he wasn't allowed to work on the cars. That wouldn't help me tonight. It wouldn't help me at all.

There was no way I could stop my thoughts now. They were reeling too fast.

Soda opened the door for me and gave me a pointed look. "You comin' or what?"

Before I could tell him or myself otherwise, I hopped out of the truck. I'd make this this far, and there was no going back now. I just had to grow a pair and deal. That was Angela's attitude, and it seemed to work for her most of the time.

Steve sprung up when we walked in. "What the hell're you doing here?"

He glared directly at me, making it clear he'd asked me and not Soda. I glanced at the tiled flooring to avoid looking at him and prayed Soda'd start talking soon. He _had _to because I couldn't.

"What'd you bring her here for?" Steve asked Soda.

"Your aunt came, and she was awful upset about it." Soda's voice sounded hesitant, a dead giveaway he was lying.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I looked up slowly to meet my brother's eyes. There was fire in them, and it seared through me; he wanted an explanation, but I couldn't provide him one.

"She came and found me. Wanted me to help her tell you," Soda added. "So here we are."

Steve pressed a hand to his forehead, his frustration building. "When'd the bitch get here?"

"A little after you dropped me off." My voice wavered as I spoke, but at least I'd found it. "She an' Leroy both."

Steve put his arm back down at his side and gave a hard nod. "You knew this was comin'. What'd you have to go and get Soda involved in it for?"

"It's fine, Steve," Soda broke in. "Really, I don't mind."

Steve gave him a harsh look, like he could tell Soda was lying the whole time.

There was a long awkward silence between the three of us. I hugged my arms over my chest and tried to keep from shaking.

"Plan's still the same for tomorrow night?" Steve asked Soda, his voice a little calmer, but his face was still bright red.

"Unless you changed your mind, yeah."

"Nah, I'll see you tomorrow then." He clenched a fist and released it, desperately trying to keep calm. "Hey, thanks for bringing her here, man… You can just leave her here. I get off in fifteen minutes, and no one's been here in the past half hour."

"Yeah, okay." Soda nodded and stepped towards the door. "See ya tomorrow, Steve."

He walked out and drove away fast. Glory, Soda was an awful liar.

I glanced at Steve, wondering how long he'd wait before he called bullshit on everything Soda said.

"So tell me…" He peered down at me with squinted eyes and circled a finger around my face in the air. "What's this about?"

"I, um, I did some experimenting with makeup today."

"In front of Aunt Rita? That's awful bold of you…"

"She came while I was in the middle of it." That much was partially true. She had come while I was trying to do my makeup, but the rest I made up right on the spot. "She flipped, Steve. It was awful, and I just ran to the first place I could think of."

"Hey, it's alright." He took a step towards me, and I gulped. Having him believe me was almost worse than having him not believe me. I didn't like lying to him, and I realized it right then more than ever before.

I stared at the floor again. My stomach began to gurgle from the anxiety.

He tilted my chin up and swept my hair behind my ear. "The makeup looks awful," he said gruffly. "Just… God, it makes you look ugly. Can your skin even breathe under those layers?"

I shrugged. It wasn't so bad once you got used to it, but I had to admit it did feel weird to have makeup on my face.

"Go wash it off." He handed me the key to the bathroom and shoved me towards it.

"Right now?" I questioned.

"You bet your ass right now." He shook his finger in the bathroom's direction. "I wanna be able to stand looking at you again. Now go."

"Fine." I dragged my feet the entire way and unlocked the door.

I stepped into the disgusting bathroom, flipped the flickering light on, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Seeing my painted up face made me even more sullen. It pushed Buck's right to the front of my memory, and I couldn't stand it. God, why couldn't I just be happy when lying to my brother worked? This should be a huge victory, just like smoking grass behind his back was, but just like then, I wanted to rat myself out. The stupid urge was strong and grew the longer I stared.

I turned the faucet on and started splashing the water on my face in vain, and finally with the aid of the soap, it was off. My face was red from the scrubbing. I had to manage with only my fingers as tools to remove it. Tears begin to peel down my cheeks and wiped them away with Angela's sweater sleeve, deeply frustrated I was about to break down once again. Normal people didn't cry this much, but I just had to cry about every little thing. I was getting better too. At least before Aunt Rita came back into the picture…

I stayed in the bathroom a long time—_too _long. Eventually Steve came and banged his fist against the door. "I gotta close up and leave, Julia," he said impatiently. "Let's move it."

I sucked the last of my tears in and opened the door.

He grimaced at me with so much irritation. "You cryin'?"

"No, I got soap in my eyes," I snapped at him and handed him the key.

Steve scoffed and ignored me in favor of his closing duties. It didn't take long before he'd wrapped everything up and started pushing me towards his car. I got in without an argument, and it took all my strength not to start bawling on the ride home.

xxxx

The house was dark when Steve pulled into the driveway, a good sign. If Aunt Rita was asleep, we might be able to bypass her entirely if we were really quiet. We could hope.

Steve gripped the steering wheel tight even after he'd turned the engine off. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was nervous about seeing her, but I wouldn't dare approach the issue with him. He always got violently defensive when he was nervous.

"Get ready for bed, and then go to my room," he told me and moved to get out.

I looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Why your room?" I understood he probably wanted to talk to me, but he never let me in there. It was one of many forbidden things he'd kept off limits to me as far back as I could remember.

"Because it's furthest from where she'll be," he explained.

I didn't argue with that; I just got out of the car and trailed behind him on the way into the house. We walked quietly, hardly shuffling our feet, but apparently not quiet enough. The light flipped on and Aunt Rita stood before us cross-armed. "Where on Earth were you, Julia Mae? I was worried sick."

I looked to Steve. I knew the truth would come out now. The lie didn't match what had happened, and if she mentioned Angela, I was screwed for sure.

"Go to your room," she hissed at me.

"No," I told her firmly

"You have no right to be telling me no right now, young lady." She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. "You were supposed to be home by dinner."

"You never said that!" I couldn't believe I was arguing with her at the intensity that I was. It could've only been because Steve was standing right there that I had that kind of courage.

She reached for my arm, but Steve pulled me close to him. "Just do what I told you," he whispered in my ear. "I'll handle her."

"You just think you rule the show around here, Steven, do you?" she demanded, shaking so hard I thought she might pop like a balloon.

"I don't just think so, I _do_," I heard him say as I turned the corner to my room.

I shut the door and got into a nightgown as fast as I could. When I emerged, they were arguing something fierce. I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth, but by the time I got there, I'd grown so nauseated from the nerves, I knelt down and threw up in the toilet several times.

After the urge passed and I regained the strength to stand, I hobbled over to the sink and washed my face. I sighed and stared at my pale, white face in the mirror. If this was how every day went with her here, I'd be institutionalized in a week.

_Don't think like that_, I screamed at myself. _It never does you any good. Don't think like that!_

I frowned at my reflection, wet my tooth brush, and proceeded to brush my teeth three times to get the awful taste of puke out of my mouth. Aunt Rita's voice sounded like a high-pitched siren from in here, but I could hear Steve clearly, and his determination only served to make me guiltier. I was partly at fault here, even if he didn't know it.

"If I thought she needed to be punished, I'd punish her myself," he bellowed so loud, the words seemed to vibrate through me.

I collapsed to the floor and curled my legs up to my chest, waiting for their argument to stop. It seemed to go on forever with no clear winner, and once again it was awful lucky for Aunt Rita she was a lady, or Steve might punch her. Someday he might even break that standard just for her.

When I heard a long silence followed by a knock on the bathroom door, I shuddered.

"It's just me, Jule." Steve's voice. Thank God.

I opened the door for him and stared up at him. "How'd you get her to back off?"

"Persistence, I guess," he said with a shrug. "C'mon, let's head to bed."

He hooked an arm around me and led me out of the bathroom. "You can sleep in my room tonight."

He couldn't possibly mean that. "Really?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," he groaned. "Something tells me she'll just try to give you hell in the morning again, and I don't want that happening."

I loved and hated how nice he was being to me right now. Each step felt longer and longer, and by the time we'd reached his room, I could no longer stand it. It'd built to the point of explosion, and if I waited any longer, I wouldn't be able to pick when I released the frustration. It just would happen on it's own.

I sat down on his bed and told myself I wouldn't cry. "Steve," I started, looking at my lap nervously. "I, um, I have something I need to tell you."

"Alright then, spill it." His voice was relatively calm, but it didn't make me any less nervous.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to get mad?"

"That depends on what you tell me."

"What I really happened tonight?" I mumbled.

Steve rubbed his forehead and shook his head firmly. "Yeah, I thought something was off," he finally said. "Spill it _now_."

"Promise I won't get in trouble?"

"I ain't promisin' shit."

The tears pooled enough they spilled over. "I don't wanna get in trouble," I whined. "You told her you'd punish me if you thought I needed it, and you'll wanna kill me after I—"

"Woah, hold on," he stopped me. "I was just making a point to her when I said that."

"But last time…" I started.

"Last time was different."

I shook my head. "No, it's probably worse," I told him miserably. "I … I went to Buck's."

Anger twitched through his eyes, but I gulped and found the courage to add the last details. There was no holding back now, even if the last part of the story would make him flip possibly the worst I'd ever seen. I just had to get it over with, and then I could sleep.

"I went with Angela, and … and I made Soda lie to you."

That did it. I could see the explosion go off in his head like a mushroom cloud. "Jesus fucking Christ, Julia!"

"I'm sorry. I … I feel awful." Uncontrollable sobs wracked through my body. "I really do."

"You should feel awful," he told me, yelling so loud I was surprised Aunt Rita didn't show up. "You should feel downright horrible. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I dunno…"

"You're the one who did it, so you better fucking know!"

"I'm sorry," I said, more desperately than the first time. I didn't know what else I could say. Of course it sounded terrible, and I couldn't expect him to take it well, but I hoped the weight of the guilt lifting off my shoulders would make up for his upset.

He took a step towards me, and I flinched away, backing myself up as far away from him as I could.

I looked up at him, wanting so badly not to be afraid of him, but I couldn't help it. I was just as terrified of him as I was Dad sometimes. His fists were balled, and everything about his facial expression said he wanted to kill me, but much to my surprise, he held back.

"Julia…" He shook his head. "Goddamn it, I ain't gonna hit you!"

He sat down on the bed and pushed his hands through his hair.

I watched him close. He looked frustrated, but the anger was leaving him fast.

"Come here," he said, extending his arms to me.

I stared at him for a while, but the way he looked at me told me I could trust him and that I didn't need to be afraid, so I scooted closer.

He wrapped his arms around me, and I did my best to relax. We didn't say much else to each other for the rest of the night, but the conversation was far from over; I guess, we'd just reached an unspoken agreement it could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Sorry for a slightly shorter (maybe slightly boring) chapter… Much longer update coming up I promise! Please review! :) It means so much to hear from you all!


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

When we woke up, Aunt Rita left us alone; aside from offering us some of the breakfast she'd made, she hardly said a word to us, and it blew my mind. Something Steve said made her to lay off, and I desperately needed to know what that was. I asked him when he pulled me into my room to lecture me about last night, but he just grumbled that I didn't get to ask him questions right now.

"I still can't believe you let my best friend lie to me." He'd said that a lot. That was the main point he kept repeating, and sometimes it seemed like he was more pissed about that then he was Buck's or Angela. For as calm as he was last night, he was awful cross now.

"It can't have been his idea," he went on, like there was something more I needed to fess up to, but I'd already told him everything.

He took a step closer to where I was seated on my bed.

"I was nervous you'd freak out," I tried to defend myself.

"Did it really help any?" His arms were crossed over his chest. He towered over me, but at least he didn't seem mad enough to hurt me. He'd just spew a lot of heated words at me before he wore himself out. "In case you didn't notice, I'm still pretty fucking pissed."

But he'd been nice to me last night. Well, after that freak out that scared the crap out of me, he was. It must've really gotten to him that I'd been scared of what he'd do—it was the only way I could explain why he didn't kill me last night. I tried to focus on that. It'd been a nice surprise and having him grumpy again just grated on me.

"You don't keep secrets from me, kid." He jabbed a finger into the front of my shoulder to emphasize his point. "I don't like secrets, and you don't fucking involve Soda in them, got it?"

I nodded.

"You better mean that."

"I do." I held back the urge to say something rude or snappy. I wanted to. It felt like he'd been harping on me forever, but considering I'd let Soda lie to him when I'd gone to Buck's of all places with Steve's least favorite person in the world, I probably deserved it a little.

"Good," he finally concluded. "Now listen, I ain't gonna be here today or tonight."

I looked down. He said he'd be here more, but that didn't mean he'd never go out. "But what about her?" I still whined, feeling awful childish about my protest too. I didn't need to give him hell for this, but it still felt necessary.

"What about her?" he asked back. "You'll be fine. I doubt she'll give you much hell about last night."

"How can you be so sure? What'd you say to her?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Just tell me!"

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Fine."

I didn't expect him to give in so fast. I leaned forward to be sure to catch every word.

"I asked her why if she knew so much about being a good parent, why her husband divorced her and took their daughter with him to his next marriage," he explained. "But you better not say any of that to her. She knows I know because she caught me snooping through her stuff when I was a kid, but she doesn't know you know."

I just stared at him, floored once again he knew so much more about Dad's family than I ever did. I thought she'd never had kids.

"Julia, you really oughta quit asking questions if you don't like the answers."

"I didn't say anything."

"You look dumbfounded."

"Just go." I got up and pushed him towards the door. "You're pissing me off now."

"Right back at you," he told me, happily obliging my push to make him leave.

I watched him go and instantly regretted it. I shouldn't push him away when he was willing to tell me things my father never would no matter how frustrated I was that he hadn't bothered to tell me yet. Now I was here with Aunt Rita and Leroy by myself, but I couldn't dwell on that.

He'd have gone anyway. If he had plans to leave, there was no stopping him.

xxxx

For most of the afternoon, I avoided Aunt Rita and Leroy both by holing in my room. I only emerged to eat lunch and ate my sandwich in quiet. I should've found half a mind to be grateful; Aunt Rita had stocked the kitchen better than Rosie'd ever been able to. For the first time in a long time, I had options. It wasn't just rice or eggs or whatever other thing we had on hand. I could choose between an assortment of many items, and it was very rare that we ever had that luxury these days.

I told myself I was doing Aunt Rita a favor by staying in my room to make myself feel less guilty. If I ventured out, I might risk irritating her, and we'd be on even worse terms, so I'd stay here until Steve came back. That was my plan, but then Dad called and ruined that.

So many emotions rushed through me when Leroy told me he was on the phone. Part of me wanted to shine him on to further punish him for bruising my cheek, but the other part was too relieved he'd finally called. Before I lost my chance, I raced to the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

"Dad?" I spoke slow, unsure I'd made the right decision.

"Hey, Julia." His voice was oddly comforting. It almost brought tears to my eyes it was so good to hear.

"How're you doin', baby?" he asked.

I swallowed and tried to bring myself to give him a decent response. _Don't cry_, I told myself. _Don't cry. You're pissed at him. Remember? _"I'm okay," I managed, a complete lie. I wanted him home. He frustrated me terribly, I was still pissed at him, but I wanted him home so bad because he belonged here, not Aunt Rita. He could be more awful than her even, and I'd still think that.

"Listen, I'm awful sorry about all that happened."

_Don't listen to that. It's just a stupid apology he doesn't really mean, because he's about to promise something he'll never be able to keep. _My hands trembled as he kept talking. "I promise things'll be better when I get back," he told me.

There it was, that bullshit promise I shouldn't believe. _Go ahead_, I pleaded with myself. _Tell him to stick it where the sun don't shine… _But when I spoke something else came out, "When're you comin' home?"

"I don't know when, but as soon as I can manage."

"Okay." I shouldn't have asked. Now I was more discouraged. He couldn't give a straight answer if his soul depended on it, and it was the most infuriating thing about him.

We didn't talk much longer, which was a good thing. I wasn't sure I could handle it, so I readily welcomed the opportunity to hang up and bolted towards my room as fast as I could.

I didn't make it far. "Julia, I need to talk to you about something." Aunt Rita stormed in front of my path with her propped on her hips. "I found these in your purse."

She held out a hand, revealing the tampons Angela had given me.

I cringed. "Why were you looking through my purse?" I didn't need this right now. Not after that phone call with Dad. I just wanted to go to my room and figure out why my feelings were so goddamned conflicted and complicated.

"I wanted to know where you'd been last night, and since you wouldn't tell me yourself, I had to resort to other measures."

That still didn't make it right to look through my things, but I bit my lip and tried to stay calm. "I was with Angela."

"But you weren't with her the whole night, were you?"

Technically no, but little did she know the dangerous part of the evening had been with Angela.

"Answer me, young lady," she growled.

"I was with another friend."

"A boy perhaps?" she assumed.

"Ponyboy's just a friend."

The look on her face couldn't be replicated. Her wrinkles bunched into a tangled mess, and her lips seemed to curl inward, like she was thinking too hard about something. "Is that some kind of pet name you have for him?"

I crossed my arms, and my shoulders slumped over. I wasn't lying, damn it. I _wasn'_t lying.

"How long have you had this little friend?"

"He really _is_ just a friend!" I was yelling now. I balled my fists and clenched them at my sides, but the frustration was growing too much to bear.

"Why would you call somebody who's just your friend a perverted nickname like that?"

"Because it's not a nickname, it's his real name," I reeled on. "He's got a brother named Sodapop and you should know that because he's Steve's best friend."

"Now you're just lying to me." She shook her fist with the tampons in my face. "Why would anybody give their children such ridiculous names?"

"I dunno… they just did."

"I'd like to have a talk with this boy's parents."

"Good luck with that," I mumbled under my breath.

She smacked my arm with her free hand. "Don't you get snippy with me."

I grimaced and rubbed the spot where she'd hit me, stunned she packed more of a sting than I thought she was capable of. "They're dead, okay?" I hissed back. "You couldn't talk to them even if you wanted to, so cool it."

"You better not be telling me tall tales or I swear—"

"I'm not telling tall tales. It's all true." I narrowed my eyes at her. The urge to slap her grew stronger by the minute. "Their big brother takes care of them, and he has to work real hard, so he doesn't have time for your crap."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, that's what it is," I kept on. "You can call me a liar, but I ain't a liar this time."

"That's even more ridiculous than the stupid names," she roared. "Why on earth would anybody let a brother take care of their young brothers? That's just asking for disaster. Their house would be a pigsty."

"It's _not_." Sometimes I thought Darry kept their house cleaner than ours ever was, and I wasn't even there that much, so clearly it was clean enough to make an impression on me, but she wouldn't understand that. According to her, men were incapable of cleaning anything.

"I take it you've been there a lot," she said.

I wanted to hit her so bad. I wanted to reach out and slap her across the face so hard I could see the imprint of my hand pressed into her stupid wrinkles. I held back as best I could, taking deep breaths to calm myself.

She opened her fist and held out the tampons in front of me again. "Do you realize how inappropriate it is for a young girl to be using these?"

"I don't see what's so bad."

"Virgins don't use these." She inflicted another stinging slap on my forearm to punctuate her words. "I find these now, but what'll I find next?"

"They're even not mine," I shot back, even if she wouldn't believe me. "My friend Angela gave them to me to use in case I had an emergency, but I don't even know how to use them, so I never ever will… It was just for in case." I wanted to add "so you can save your bullshit lecture because I'm _still_ a virgin", but I wasn't stupid. I was already knee deep in bullshit with her because of Ponyboy's funny name of all things.

"Is Angela the nice young lady who was here yesterday?" She lifted an eyebrow. "I find it hard to believe she would supply you with these. You best quit lying to me, young lady."

She dropped the tampons on the floor and stomped her feet over them.

I buried my face in my hands, near tears now. It was always Angela's fault even when it wasn't. She'd given them to me to be nice, but I guess aunt Rita thought these were some kind of contraption made by the devil. "Trust me," I said. "Angela's not as sweet as she looks. She's kind of a bitch."

It wasn't until after the cuss word rolled off my tongue that I realized my grave mistake. I dared glance up; her expression had gone from irate to disgusted, and I knew I was dead. God, maybe this was the real downside to all this swearing I'd done recently. No thanks to my new ability to cuss with ease, it'd started slipping out at the wrong times. "She's just not all that nice," I corrected myself, but it was already too late.

She grabbed me by my arm and started dragging me away. "I don't know where you learned to talk like this, but it ends now, and you're gonna quit tellin' me lies too."

I panicked for the first three seconds. The panic momentarily halted the impending tears, but it was in that rush of adrenaline I realized her grip was useless to stop me. I could break away if I wanted to because I was at least as strong as her. Unlike with Steve or Dad, I could fight her off, and the fact that I could was enough to keep me from doing it. If she just left me in my room all day, I'd consider it an accomplishment that I could be away from her like I'd wanted to be in the first place. If she tried to hit me though, I'd fight back for sure.

"This is what happens to children who lie and curse," she said, dragging me into the bathroom. She reached for a bar of soap, and I realized then what she wanted to do.

That was it for me. I wasn't sticking around for this. I bolted out of her grip and ran for my bedroom, careful to shut and lock the door before she could get ahold of me again. She ran up to the door, her labored breathing louder and more obnoxious with each step.

"Julia, if you don't open this door, I'll whip you too." She tapped her hand against the door repeatedly. "You've been allowed to run wild, and it's time somebody taught you a lesson."

The threat only scared me a little. I couldn't deny my sweaty palms and racing heartbeat, but there was no way she could hit that hard, and I remembered all too well how the last time she'd laid a hand on me, she'd only wounded my pride. This time was different; I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

Besides, I hadn't been allowed to run wild. Steve had too many double standards about that; he ran wild, and I stayed boring unless I was doing something with the girl she ironically thought was a prim and proper princess. That was the natural order of things around here, and she didn't get it at all.

I grabbed my desk chair and jammed it under the door knob in case the lock failed and took a seat on my bed. I didn't cry, not even when she screamed more threats at me in a failed attempt to get me to open the door. The composure made me proud of myself. Steve was right; she couldn't do anything to me, and the power from this moment brought the relief I'd wanted all week.

She gave up fast and left me alone, but I could hear her whining stuff about me to Leroy. She was so far up his ass right now, it disgusted me. I guess, she was the only person aside from Dad and me who'd been really nice to him after his mom died, but that didn't justify buying her bullshit. He just did whatever she said with no questions asked, and he clung to her like he actually wanted to be around her, like he wanted her to be his replacement mom, and why would anybody in their right mind want that?

I refused to think about it any longer. I lay down and tried to nap. Even though I'd slept better than I had in a long time last night, this argument had sucked the life out of me. I was still trying to figure out what was so awful about a tampon; I mean, it went inside you, sure, but that wasn't the same thing as sex, was it? She was a prude idiot, but I was most pissed she thought I was lying about Pony and Soda's names and that Darry took care of them. It didn't matter how crazy I sounded because it was one hundred percent true.

I sighed and clamped my eyes shut. _You'll feel better if you nap_, I told myself, but sleep was hardly relaxing and thrust me into a state of panic all over again. So much for newfound confidence. I woke up clammy and drenched in sweat. Judging by the pitch black outside my window, it was night. Not to mention my stomach rumbled loud enough I could hear it and feel it, a clear indication I'd slept through supper, and the hunger frustration paired with the nightmare was enough to throw me back into the relentless tears I thought I'd overcome.

It was an awful nightmare too. I dreamt I was younger and living with her back in Kansas. I was sick and throwing up over and over again, but she kept insisting I was faking it, just like she'd insisted I was lying today, but the worst part was Steve stood there and let her lash out at me. That was how I knew it'd been a nightmare; in my real memories, something like that had happened differently. I wasn't throwing up, but my stomach hurt, and she wanted me to eat things I couldn't. Of course, at four I didn't know how to express this properly, so I just bawled and bawled.

Steve was younger than I was now at the time, but I'll never forget what he did. He couldn't stop her physically—at ten, he just wasn't strong enough—but he broke one of her vases to get her attention off me. At the time I didn't realize it was for me. I just thought he'd set out to piss her off like he always did, but I understood when it brought it up years later. It was maybe one of the kindest things he'd ever done for me; yet, to this day, he insisted it was no big deal and that nothing she'd ever done to him had really hurt him. I wanted to rip my hair out whenever he said things like that. I knew it bothered him—deep down he probably did too—but I couldn't figure out why he wouldn't admit it. I couldn't decide if he was just being cocky and wanted to look tough or if he thought he needed to act like that for my sake. I hoped it was the first, but something told me it was the second.

The next ten minutes proved that better than anything else. He showed up with all sorts of bruises and a big black eye, but rather than nurse his own wounds, he turned all his attention to me. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're bawling _again_," he tore at me.

I tried to ignore the harshness. He was just angry because of the fight he'd been in. That was all. "You okay, Steve?"

"Why're you crying?" he demanded right back, refusing to acknowledge my question.

"I had a nightmare," I wailed.

"About?"

"About Aunt Rita."

Steve groaned and bunched his fists at his sides. "Well, ain't that great."

"What happened to you? How'd you get that black eye?"

"Nothing that concerns you," he grumbled and sat down. "Tell me about this nightmare."

"I can't remember it."

"What'd I say about lies?" He slung arm around me and shook his head. "You're an awful liar. Don't even try with me."

I gave up then and told him. There was enough concern behind that gruff voice, I couldn't stand it anymore. He stopped berating me for crying after that. He didn't make any additional comments and just calmed me down enough I could sleep again.

He never told me about the fight that produced his bruises either, but I vowed to find out later. One way or another, I would.

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Thank you so much for the reviews, guys! You didn't know, but I needed them after the weekend I had. Of course I would love, love, love it if you left me more! It would make my day. :)


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Sorry for long it's been… A week, I think, but anyway, I've been super, super sick for unknown reasons, and it's taken a huge toll on my energy. Thank you all so much for your reviews and PM's! They were very much appreciated. I apologize I haven't been responding to anyone lately. I'm just so rundown, it's unreal, but I'm hoping to devote a little more time to writing this week. It destresses me, and your supportive reviews are always such a joy to read!

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I emerged from my room the next day with great caution. Although Steve was here now, the tampon incident was fresh in my memory, and I was furious Aunt Rita dared look through my things. Yesterday, her phony accusations wrung my brain into a knotted mess. That was all I could think about—how I hadn't lied once—but today her rudeness stood out over everything else. That was my purse, my stuff, my tampons to use if I damn well-pleased, and for someone who lived her whole life accusing others of being rude, she should hold herself to the same standards.

I never thought I'd say it, but she was a bigger hypocrite than Steve. He wouldn't look through my things, and I'd bet anything if I told him what she did, he'd give her an earful, but how would I admit the argument was over tampons? Of all the things in the world, it had to be _tampons_. The potential embarrassment did notoutweigh a chance for retaliation. It was as though the universe aligned to create the one perfect incident I could never tell him about.

I sighed and pressed myself against the wall in the hallway. I was out of my room. Step one. Now I just had to keep going and hopefully avoid Aunt Rita in the process. It couldn't be that hard. Still, I lingered by my door a long time, allowing an escape to my bedroom if needed. If she kept doing things like this, I could get used to living in there for a few weeks. Maybe I'd just steal some food and only use the bathroom at night, but that was one heck of a stupid idea. Steve would love that one. He'd laugh, and then I'd get flustered because he thought my frustration was funny, and then he'd give me another lecture about being too overdramatic, and then I guess none of this really mattered anymore because thinking about the self-satisfied grin on his face got me moving.

That, or my rumbling stomach. I booked it to the kitchen in dire search of food; my appetite was strong this morning no thanks to missing supper. I made it as far as where the carpet switched to linoleum. Of course, Aunt Rita was there. I froze. Any second now she'd notice me, and the reprimands would start.

I eyed her for a long time until it became clear was ignoring me. I took a deep breath and took a step forward, eyeing the box of cornflakes on the counter to keep my feet moving. I had to eat, so I walked faster and poured myself a bowl. Breakfast now in my hands, I wanted so bad to run off somewhere else to devour it, but that wouldn't fly. She was too "by the rules" to let me get away with that.

I rolled my eyes when her back was to me and took a seat at the table. With each bite, I watched her. She was moving about the kitchen with agility impossible for someone her age. She had a nice dress on, her hair was done up in an elaborate bun, and it took me a several minutes to realize the occasion. I felt stupid once I had—it was Sunday morning. She and Leroy had gone to church while Steve and I slept in. I wondered what that'd be like to go every Sunday. Church was something Dad never did. He believed in something; I knew because I'd seen him pray a couple times out of desperation, but he never took us to church. He never did anything that required effort that like.

Aunt Rita hummed a tune as she tidied up the kitchen, probably something she'd heard at the church service. I didn't recognize it, but boy, was she ever pleasant. She was so pleasant it was eerie, and I hated that she could pretend yesterday never happened. Everyone who lived here did that, and it never did us any good, but no one ever stopped.

She approached me slowly. This was it, she was probably going to reprimand me with that pleasant look on her face, but she only set a banana down in front of me. "You need to eat more than just cereal for that to be a complete meal, honey."

I grimaced and stirred the cornflakes around the bowl with my spoon. She was only calling me a pet name to appease me, and but it wouldn't work. No matter how many times she said whatever babyish term she came up with, it wouldn't make me feel any different about her. It reminded me of how Rosie did that, and I wasn't sure who I hated worse right now. All I knew was it seemed like Steve was the only person older than me who didn't try to do that, and I appreciated it. It felt more genuine that he didn't.

Aunt Rita watched me eat. I could feel her piercing gaze on me even when I wasn't looking at her, and I wondered what on earth I could possibly be doing wrong. I was just eating, damn it. Maybe it was because I left the banana on the table, but no one gave a shit about a complete meal around here. Rosie tried to make meals, but we always reverted back to eating what we could find when we were hungry.

I did my best to ignore her presence by focusing solely on the act of eating, but the silence drove me insane. I looked up from the bowl and made eye contact.

"Julia, I think I owe you an apology," she said and glanced away from me.

I nearly choked. "What?"

She patted my forearm and retracted her hand just as unexpectedly. "I paid your friend Ponyboy's family a visit."

I blushed. The images that swarmed through my head when she said that were something out a horror film. Poor Darry. Oh God, poor allof them.

"It would seem he does have a brother named Sodapop." She licked her lips and tapped a boney finger against the counter. "And they both live with their older brother Darrel.

I shoveled more cornflakes in my mouth and let the crunch drown out the sound of her voice. Steve would hear about this for sure. If his friends had the misfortunate of meeting her, he would definitely hear about it now.

"I can't imagine why anybody would want to give their children such atrocious names."

They weren't that atrocious when I really thought about it. People had worse names. There was a kid in my class by the last name Butts, and his parents were cruel enough to name him Harold, so of course everyone called him Harry Butts. That was definitely worse than Sodapop or Ponyboy.

"You hadn't lied, Julia," she kept on. "I'm sorry for accusing you of that, but we still need to talk about, well, what I found."

No, we didn't. We _really _didn't. The lump in my throat prevented me from swallowing another spoonful, so I dropped the spoon into the bowl and gave her my most desperate look. If she had enough heart to apologize, maybe she'd have enough heart to not make me talk about it.

"A girl your age shouldn't be using them."

The moment she opened her mouth, I wanted to slink underneath the table, but that wasn't a viable option, so I went for the next best thing, the very thing Steve always wanted to wring my neck for—asking too many questions. "Why?" I demanded, trying as hard as I could to make my voice intimidating.

"_Why_?" Her face flushed. "Why it's just unacceptable."

"But why is it unacceptable?"

"It just is," she snapped and held up a hand to let me know she'd had enough of the discussion. Well, that was too bad. If that was the case, she shouldn't have brought it up, damn it. "Is it because it's like sex?" I asked.

Her eyes grew awful wide and she shook her head at me. "We shouldn't be having such inappropriate discussions," she said, tone back to the old shrill sound I was used to.

"So it is then?"

She readjusted her glasses instead of answering me. Her anxiousness confirmed my suspicion. It was about sex. It was about me maybe not being a virgin, but she wouldn't be able to say it outright to my face.

"All you need to know is you shouldn't use them. I forbid it." She shook a finger at me the same way all moms on TV did to their children when they didn't want them to do something. It looked silly and only came across condescending because she wasn't happy as June Cleaver. The pleasant look was an illusion earlier. Steve was right. She wanted to win me over and prove something to Dad. Well, the only thing she'd confirmed so far was how much I hated her. She wouldn't make me anymore a lady because she wasn't much of a lady herself.

But yet, I didn't know. There was something about the way she sat that unnerved me. Her hands were pressed to her temples, and she looked near tears. I hadn't seen her like that in a long, long time. In fact, I couldn't remember if I ever had, and the silence that followed lasted too long.

It made everything else louder. The sound of picking my spoon up was unbearable, and each time the metal clanked against the glass bowl, I flinched. I kept eating though. I'd finished the cereal and started on the banana before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Julia." She set her hands down on the table and folded them neatly. Her cheeks definitely were tear-stained, and I didn't know what to think of it.

I didn't know what to say either, so I said nothing. This was the second time she'd apologized in ten minutes. Apologies from her were as rare as they were from Steve, and the worst part was I had to wonder if she was the reason he learned to never apologize.

"I really should be more patient with you." Her voice faltered and she wiped a tear off her cheek. "It's not your fault you got this way."

Any potential pity I had for her vanished. I hadn't turned out all that bad, and I was only twelve. I had many more years to figure everything out, so how _dare_ she say that. "So whose is it then?" I asked. "My dad's? Steve's?"

She didn't answer that, which meant, yes, she thought it was their fault.

I shot out of my seat and glared at her. I could handle her blaming my dad for a few things, but not Steve.

"Julia, just listen to me for a second…"

I ignored her and cleaned my bowl in the sink. By the time I'd washed it, dried it, and put it away, I felt her eyes on me again. I pivoted and glared once again. "What?"

"You need to give me a chance too." She took in a shaky breath and coughed when she exhaled. "We get on fine before. You can't listen to everything your brother tells you."

She had a million chances and lost them all ages ago. "I'm gonna … I'm gonna go to my room." I bolted away. I needed to get there fast before I said something I'd really regret. Every time she insulted Steve hit me twice as hard.

"You can't stay in there forever," she called after me. "Perhaps you should go play with your friend who was here yesterday."

Her words halted my feet, and I tilted my head towards her. "You mean Angela?"

"Yes, she was a very mature young woman."

"You don't know Angela like I know Angela." I didn't know Angela all that well, but I knew her better than most people. Maybe even all people, and I knew more time with Saint Angela would only trigger more problems for me.

"She was a very polite child." There was no doubt in Aunt Rita's eyes; she believed every word she spoke. "I think this Angela could be a good influence on you."

"Bullshit," I scoffed. I'd never heard the words "Angela" and "good influence" spoken in the same sentence before. I wanted to tell her I hadn't lied about the tampons being Angela's either, but then I realized this could work to my advantage. She was encouraging me to hang out with Angela. It was just like when Rosie did it. Steve would blame her and not me.

It took me a couple seconds to realize she hadn't reacted to my use of a curse word. She didn't even cringe this time. She just stared at her folded hands and avoided looking at me.

I couldn't stand looking at her any longer, so I ran the rest of the way and slammed the door, only to hear heavy footsteps behind me. So much for her having patience… I held the knob firmly and tried to turn the lock, but the door opened before I could.

"Hey." Steve stepped in and I gasped.

"Just thought I'd congratulate you for making her cry," he added.

"She's still crying?"

He nodded. He looked proud, so I knew his comment hadn't been sarcasm this time. "What'd you say to her?"

"She apologized for yesterday," I explained and left it at that. I shouldn't have said anything. Now he'd want the whole story.

"What happened yesterday?"

I looked to my feet. He didn't need or want to her about tampons, but it was then that I realized something. I could withhold this information in an effort to get information out of him. "If I tell you, _you_ tell me what you did last night." I crossed my arms and looked up to let him know I was serious.

"That ain't your business, kid."

I must've heard that phrase a billion times in my life, and I was sick of it. Nothing was ever my business. He could be dying, and it still probably wouldn't be my business. "Well, my business is always your business, and I'm not telling you anything unless I get something out of it."

He narrowed his eyes and balled his fists at his sides. "You realize how much like a brat you sound right now?"

"I'm not telling unless you tell me," I persisted. Brat or not, it was only fair, and he knew it too.

"Fine, I got in a fight. Now you."

"What'd you fight about?"

"Nothing important."

"It must be important if you don't wanna tell me..."

"And I still say it ain't your business," he growled. "I got in a fight, and that's all you need to know. Wasn't any different than any other fight I've been in, so don't sweat it. I'm fine."

That was a lie. His black eye told me it'd been serious. I gave him a look, but there was no avail. He held out firm. "What'd she do yesterday?"

"Ask Soda," I said with a sigh.

"What the hell does Soda have to do with it?"

I shrugged. He had nothing to do with the main argument, but he probably remembered Aunt Rita's visit.

Steve looked furious. He took a few steps closer to me. "Of all the stupid things you've said… God, he was with me all last night, so what the fuck does he have to do with any of this?"

"I ain't lying," I yelled right back at him. "She paid them all a visit apparently. She thought I was lying about Soda and Pony's names and that Darry was their guardian, and I dunno what else. She just thought I was lying about it all."

"You sure she went there?" he asked. "'Cause this story is all kinds of screwed up. I mean, even for her, screwed up."

"That's what she told me."

"Jesus Christ." He scratched his chin and started backing away towards my door. I couldn't tell if he was amused, hacked, or both, but regardless of his mood, I couldn't let him leave with her again.

I ran up to him before he could take any more steps. "Where're you going?"

"Soda's. I wanna hear about this."

"Can I—"

"No," he interrupted me before I could even finish my thought.

"Steve, I don't wanna be stuck here with her again," I pleaded. "You promised you'd—"

"Fine," he cut me off again and grabbed my arm. "But don't you go thinkin' I'm making a habit outta this. Just 'cause I let you come along once or twice don't mean nothin'."

Maybe not to him, but it meant a lot to me. "Thanks, Steve."

"Shut up before I change my mind."

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Please, please, please review. :)


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Hey everyone! Thanks a billion for all the lovely reviews! I promise I'm not abandoning the story. I've just been super, super sick lately with a rare autoimmune disease that has rendered me unable to digest any food. It's been a rough several days, but I just rediscovered just how much writing destresses me better than anything else. I'm hoping to use the illness to my advantage in this way, but if I disappear for another week at a time, please, please, please be patient with me! I will update. I promise. I love writing these series well enough I'll keep writing as long as I'm physically able.

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Whenever Steve didn't want to do something but did it anyway, it resulted in him acting like an asshole. Even if I got my way, he still had to win in some way, shape or form, and sometimes it got to the point it wasn't worth getting what I wanted in the end. I _wanted _to go to the Curtis's. I reminded myself over and over again that it was better than staying home, but his scowl was awfully annoying, and his short, snappy replies to whatever I said nearly drove me over the edge. Everything was "no", "shut up", or a look that told me he was seconds away from losing it. Eventually he stopped replying altogether, and I gave up. Like it or not, I was no match to his kind of stubborn.

I shifted around in my seat in search of a comfortable position. Nothing felt right amidst the silence. No talking. No radio. All I could hear was the hum of the engine and the hiss of smoke spewing from his lungs. He smoked a lot lately. Cigarette after cigarette after cigarette, like they were candy, and although I realized he always smoked a lot, it was never quite like this. If he didn't have a pack on him, I worried he'd get so tense he'd explode. One look at his face told me that was more than just a possibility. He was a grenade seconds away from detonation.

"_Julia_."

My heart jolted against my ribcage at the unexpected boom of his voice. I turned and was met with a glare. "If you get dirt on the seat…" He inhaled a puff of the current cigarette and pointed the stick at me as he exhaled. "I swear to Christ you'll look like road kill by the time I'm through with you."

I looked at my legs, which were now tucked to the side of me, and despite the tension, I laughed. I didn't want to. I wasn't dumb enough to get under his last nerve when he was already edgy, but the way he said it was funny. It was part relief he wasn't yelling at me about something serious, part I hadn't put my feet up to irritate him on purpose. If I had I'd consider this outburst an accomplishment

"I'm dead serious." He pointed the cigarette at me again. "If you like living, you oughta listen, 'cause I'll end your existence."

I covered my mouth to stifle another laugh and sighed as I pulled my hand away from my face. "You know, Steve, that has to be the fanciest way you've ever told me you'd kill me…"

Before I could catch my breath from the laughter, a sharp sting bit my leg. I put my feet down and realized he'd slapped me. "Holy shit, Steve, my shoes ain't even dirty." I rolled my eyes, folded my arms across my chest, and settled my back against the seat. God, he was testy about his damn car, but something told me he was only looking for a reason to get short with me because he regretted letting me come along.

Several minutes passed. I shifted as close to the window as I could and stared at the street signs and people as we passed them. We'd been in the car a long time, and judging from the surroundings, we'd long passed the Curtis's. I looked to Steve and swallowed. The obvious question sat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't garner the courage to ask him. I just glanced back and forth between him and the window until I couldn't stand it any longer.

When the car rolled to a stop, I turned to him. "Steve, I thought—"

"Stay here," he spat.

"But—"

The glare he gave me silenced me fast. He got out of the car, slammed the door, and trudged forward to a location I didn't recognize. I sat up straighter and craned my neck, looking for a sign or something to tell me where we were. One thing was for certain—he wouldn't tell me what he was doing, so if I wanted to know, I'd have to figure it out myself.

I saw Tim Shepard, and my palms grew clammy. Maybe this had something to do with how he got the black eye and bruises. "Damn it, Steve," I cursed to myself. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

He was in no condition to start up a blood feud with one of Angela's brothers. I watched for a couple minutes. No punches; just heated words as far as I could tell, and maybe I was reading into it because Steve always looked angry like that, but it felt as though I was witnessing a bomb seconds before its explosion. The worry chipped away at me—worry Tim'd knock him out, worry Tim'd gave him the injuries in the first place, worry that something terrible would happen if I didn't try to stop it. Before I could think about it any longer, I burst out of the car and ran towards them.

Tim noticed me first, and he flashed my brother an awful smirk. "Bring your kid sister as backup, Randle?" he asked.

My stomach dropped. It sounded like he was teasing Steve, but I couldn't be sure, and it ate at me more.

"What the fuck're you doin', Julia?" Steve growled under his breath. He grabbed my arm and hauled me all the way back to the car, his grip digging into my skin so tight, it made my eyes water.

He opened the passenger door and shoved me inside.

I watched him walk back to Tim. Again, no punches were thrown, which made me feel stupid. They didn't talk much longer, but whatever it was wasn't a fight between them, and I'd surely pay for that wrong assumption. Soon Steve flipped around and headed towards me. His fists were clenched at his sides, he walked faster, and my heart raced a beat quicker with each step he took.

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. The door swooshed open before I could open them. "Christ, Steve, you scared me…"

"What the hell were you doing?" He grabbed at my arm before I could answer. I simultaneously jerked away, but it wasn't soon enough. He'd gotten ahold of my sweater sleeve and pulled hard enough it started to tear off the shoulder seam.

He still grasped the fabric between his fingers and refused to let go. "You got three seconds to tell me what the hell that was about."

"Or what?" I dared ask, a big mistake.

His eyes set ablaze and he leaned closer to my face. "Don't find out."

I swallowed. "Steve…" I started and couldn't finish. I'd only been worried about him, so the last thing I wanted to do was apologize, but I needed to say something. He was glaring at me to keep talking. "I thought you, um… I just…"

"You don't know, huh?" he finished for me.

"No!"

"No what?

"No," I repeated. It wouldn't get me far, but it was the only word I could think of in that split second.

He yanked on the sleeve again, and the sound of ripping fabric pierced my ears. "I … I was just worried," I told him with a sigh.

He drew back his free hand like he might slap me. I scooted as far away from him as possible, shielded my face, and gritted my teeth in anticipation of the impact, but no slap ever came. He didn't even pull against me and let the fabric slip through his fingers freely. I resettled myself against the door and shivered. I had a shirt on under the sweater, but it didn't seem to stop the cold air from seeping through it.

The car engine roared, and we started moving.

I sat up. "Steve—"

"Shut up."

I grimaced. Somehow that "shut up" was different than the other times he'd said it. He sounded tired and exhausted, and even though I hadn't done a single thing wrong on purpose, it felt like it was my fault. I didn't cry though. I wanted to. The frustration built, and I wanted the relief of expelling it, but the tears wouldn't come. It was the opposite problem of what I was used to. Usually I bawled like a baby and got embarrassed about it later. Nothing felt right. I wavered between trying to force tears and pretending I was anywhere else for the longest time. Neither worked, and by the time the car had come to a permanent stop, I couldn't bring myself to look at Steve.

He rested a hand on my shoulder, and he gave me a small nudge, but I was just too sulky and bitter. He always got mad when I didn't mean any harm, and I'd grown fed up with it. I thought back to the night Dad kicked him out and how I'd chased after him. That was worse than now, but I couldn't help but compare. I remembered how mad he was, and how if Soda hadn't been there … Well, I didn't need to think about that.

Steve nudged me again.

"Leave me alone." I moved to shoot him a glare and faltered when I actually saw him.

He held a jacket out to me. At first I didn't know what to make of it, but I didn't fight against him as he helped me into the long sleeves and wrapped it around me. It reeked horribly of smoke, which told me it'd probably sat in the backseat of his car a long time, but it didn't matter. It was warm, and though I hated to admit it, a somewhat adequate apology for nearly ripping the sleeve off my sweater.

"Where are we?" I glanced around. It looked like some random parking lot. "We still goin' to Soda's?"

"Yeah, eventually." He rubbed his forward and shook his head at me. "Jesus, I should've known you'd try spy on me. You'd think it was impossible for you to mind your own damn business."

"I wasn't spying."

"Right," he scoffed. "Of course, you weren't."

"I really wasn't!"

"Then why the hell else did you get out of the car?" he demanded, his voice dangerously nearing a yell.

"I thought Tim was gonna punch the lights outa you," I mumbled.

"What?"

"You looked pissed at him, and I dunno. I just did."

I avoided eye contact with him again, certain he'd yell more or make fun of me for being so stupid. I almost wished for the first. It was worse to have him belittle me. I was used to the bossiness, and I guess the teasing too, but it just stung a lot when he said I was stupid. It stung more than when anyone else said it, including Angela.

"You're kidding," he said.

I shook my head.

"And what exactly would you do to him?"

I picked up the laughter between his words and eyed him furiously. "Shut up."

"No, I'm real curious now. You wanted to take on Tim?"

"Shut _up_, Steve."

I groaned as loud as I possibly could and pulled the jacket over my head. No, I did _not _want to fight him. Angela could beat me up, and Tim was probably the only person in the world who could stop her once she'd made up her mind, so considering that, I wouldn't dare start a verbal argument with him, let alone anything physical.

"Most guys I know wouldn't volunteer to have a go at him, and a little girl like you thought she could?" He chuckled. "What was your plan? To scratch his scar open with your fingernails?"

"I said shut up!"

I could hardly breathe beneath the heavy, smoke-infested jacket, but I kept my face shrouded anyway out of pure stubbornness. It didn't last long. He tugged on the back of the jacket once and out popped my head. My hair frizzed in every which direction from sliding against the fabric, and I was sure to give him a dirty look as I attempted to tame it with my fingers.

"Honest, Jule, that's gotta be the most hilarious thing I've heard in a long damn time."

I wanted to take his jacket off and belt him right across the face with it, but I just sat there and frowned.

"You really think I was gonna fight him? In front of you?"

I shrugged. He sounded serious again at least, but I was too worn out to give him an answer.

"God, Julia, think about it for a second… Would I bring you along if I was gonna do that?"

I shrugged again.

"For fuck's sakes," he breathed and scratched the side of his head. "I was just gonna talk to him before I headed to Soda's, and now I'm starting to think I shouldn't have brought you along for either. Clearly, you can't handle it."

"I can too," I argued, even if the evidence was stacked against me. I sounded like a spoiled, whiny brat, and he probably questioned any maturity I'd gained over the past couple months now.

He shook his head. "Nope."

I frowned a frown that could easily droop into a pout. "Well, I guess you're takin' me home then, huh?"

He he shook his head again. "I ain't itchin' to see Rita again any time soon, and I figure you probably ain't either."

My spirits lifted instantly, and I almost forgot about how much of a grump he'd been earlier.

As for our aunt, he was right. There was a slight unease in my stomach for making her cry like that, but her thinking of me as a screw up pushed all pity away. I sighed and soaked up the relief I'd been desperate to get from tears earlier.

Steve looked at me like I'd said something crazy.

I wouldn't dare tell him about the tampons, so I just smiled and said, "You have no idea."

xxxx

I wore Steve's jacket even when we'd reached the Curtis's. The thought of anybody seeing my torn sleeve unnerved me too much, and it was cold anyway. I hoped to see Ponyboy, but I figured he must've been hanging out with friends or something, seeing as he wasn't there. I didn't know what to do, so I just stuck by Steve. He probably hated that, but he let me with minimal complaints.

Soda recounted Aunt Rita's visit in great detail, even offering up a few impressions of the way she walked and talked, and then to my dismay, he went straight into what she thought about me and Pony. "He ain't datin' nobody," Soda remarked to Steve. "Shit, I don't even think he knows girls could like him."

Pony knew Angela liked him. He didn't like her back, but I knew he was aware. Still, I didn't argue with Soda. The last thing he wanted to hear was Angela Shepard was moseying up to his kid brother. I loved Angela, but I had to admit I wouldn't want any brother of mine dating her either.

Steve looked at me and then at Soda. "I should hope to hell he ain't datin' her," he said with a smirk, but behind it, I could tell he was being equally serious.

He had nothing to worry about though. We weren't dating, and we weren't even that close of friends. I liked him, sure, but it'd feel too weird to come see him on my own. As much as he annoyed Steve, he was probably more Steve's friend than mine, and knowing Steve, he'd get mad about that eventually. Christ, it was hard enough for him to deal with me being here now.

I tried to make it easier for him by keeping my mouth shut, but curiosity got the best of me. Steve and Soda started talking about last night. "What happened?" I wasn't sure who I was asking. Preferably Steve, but Soda could explain just as well if he wanted.

"None of your business," Steve grumbled.

Soda rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "She probably _should_ know, Steve."

"Know what?" I asked.

Steve pinched my arm. "Shut up, and I might tell you later."

I wasn't sure if I should believe him or not, but the prospect was enough to keep me quiet the rest of the visit.

xxxx

By the time I got home, I'd forgotten all about Steve telling me what I'd done. The only priority on my mind was changing out of the ripped sweater before Aunt Rita saw it. I was successful, and she didn't suspect a thing at supper. We all ate the cold leftovers in silence, and after we finished, she turned her attention straight to the phone, talking to various people for the remainder of the evening. I paid little attention to it until I swore I she was talking to Dad.

I raced back to the kitchen and begged her to let me talk to him. I wasn't sure why I wanted to so bad, but just the small amounts of his end of the conversation I could pick up on brought a great deal of comfort to me. Even if he was yelling, it was just good to hear him.

Aunt Rita continually held up her hand and shooed me away. I got so fed up with it, I resorted to listening in on their conversation. There was another phone in my Dad's room. I snuck in there and carefully picked up the receiver, holding my hand over my mouth to ensure neither of them would hear my breathing.

What I heard stunned me. Dad defended me fervently against her accusations he'd done a horrible job raising me, and though I agreed he hadn't been the best father, I was proud of him at that moment. He told her she imagined it and that I was a wonderful kid. I started crying despite myself and cautiously hung up the phone before I grew too loud.

I curled up into a ball on his bed and lay there for a long time.

Leroy found me before anyone else. He opened the door and approached me in slow strides. "You okay?" he asked.

I hiccupped and tried to stop the crying now that he stood in front of me. "I'm fine," I choked out.

"What's wrong?"

I didn't wanna say it—that I thought I missed my dad despite that slap that left me bruised. I was so happy to see him go then, and this current breakdown thus made no sense.

"I, um … I'll go get Steve," he said.

That caught my attention right away. "No," I called after him. "Please don't say anything." Steve wouldn't understand missing our father. There was no way, and even if there was, I didn't feel like taking a chance on it.

Leroy scurried away, but I wasn't sure if he'd listened to me or not.

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Please, please review! You guys have no idea how much of a pick me up your feedback has been amidst the illness. Please keep it up. I'm hoping to get the next update up by the weekend. :)


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Thanks for the reviews so very, very much. I apologize I haven't been able to reply to you guys or PM as usual. Still quite sick. I got a call back on some test results today and finally found out what's wrong, so hopefully I'll get on some decent treatment when I see a specialist this week. Google Crohn's disease if you're curious... but I won't bore you with the nasty details of the illness. :P

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Leroy didn't listen. Not even a minute later I heard him and Steve bickering outside the door.

"What the hell's goin' on?" The unmistakable gruffness told me it was Steve's voice right away. He always sounded a little like Dad, but today it was more noticeable than ever. It was the frustrated urgency; their patience would snap, and until their temper subsided, no answer would be good enough. Sometimes I swore they just liked the sensation of straining their vocal chords.

I could hardly hear Leroy, but Steve was relentless. "You say somethin' to her? Maybe Rita? What happened?"

He kept asking that same basic question. What happened? What happened? Sometimes with an expletive thrown in, and I wasn't sure what good yelling it louder did for getting Leroy to talk to him, or better yet, why Aunt Rita hadn't showed up amidst the noise. She wouldn't miss out on this—a golden opportunity to tell Steve what she thought of him while defending her precious Leroy—but she was oddly absent.

"Go to hell, Steve! I don't know, okay? She's just cryin' an awful lot."

Leroy's yell caught me off-guard and halted my crying for a couple seconds. He sounded more like a Randle now; that "go to hell" might've been the harshest insult he ever said to anybody. It must've shocked Steve too because it silenced him momentarily.

"I dunno about Aunt Rita, but I sure as heck didn't do anything," Leroy asserted himself. "So lay off, Steve."

"That's helpful," Steve scoffed.

I buried my face in my hands. Their fighting grated on my nerves so bad I wanted to rip me hair out, and I couldn't help but think it was somehow my fault because I dared miss my father.

"Don't you hear her?" Leroy asked. "She sounds awful."

"Of course I fucking hear her."

"Well, are you gonna talk to her or what?"

The door creaked open, and heavy footsteps approached. I guess that was Steve's answer to Leroy's question. I pushed myself under the covers and shoved my face in a pillow, hoping the bedding would soften the sounds of my wailing.

"You okay, Julia?" Leroy asked.

I sniffled and wondered why I hadn't just told him why I was upset in the first place. He liked my dad. He'd understand better than Steve ever would, and we could've avoided this mess altogether.

"You okay?" I heard Leroy again.

I nodded into the pillow and executed plan B to silence myself by holding my breath.

"Get lost," Steve barked at Leroy.

I bit down on my lip, starting to tremble from the loss of air. The urge to scream at Steve was strong. He had no reason to be this much of an asshole to Leroy, but my voice would be incomprehensible if I tried to talk now. I'd sound like a blubbering idiot

Steve yanked the blankets off me. At least I assumed it was him because the next thing I knew someone jabbed at my shoulder.

No longer able to hold my breath, I lifted my head, gasped, and threw my face deeper into the pillow. "Just go away," I mumbled.

Steve bunched the back of my shirt in his fist and tugged on it. "Up," he ordered.

I shook my head. "Just go away," I repeated louder.

"How the hell'm I supposed to know what you're saying with your face in that goddamned pillow?"

He released my shirt, and for a moment, I thought I won, but then he started tugging on my hair instead. Not hard, but it hurt enough I gave up and rolled over unto my back.

I pulled myself up slowly. Steve didn't look as irritated as he sounded, and it calmed me down somewhat until he glared at Leroy, revealing his ugly side once again.

Leroy flashed me a sympathetic grin and shuffled away.

"Do you really have to be so mean to him?" I wiped at my eyes and tried to give Steve a dirty look against the tears.

Steve cussed something under his breath. I guess that meant, yes, he did have to be a jerk to Leroy. "Would it kill you to be nice to somebody for a change?" I asked.

"Yeah, actually, it would."

I frowned and hugged my arms around myself.

"What's your problem this time?" He rubbed his temples and sighed. "Something happen I should know about?"

"Nope."

"Bullshit. Rita, wasn't it?"

I shrugged. It was just like him to jump to conclusions, even when they were true.

"It was, wasn't it?"

I shrugged again.

"Julia," he pressed. "Was it or wasn't it?"

"Kind of…"

"Okay." He nodded and took my admission relatively well. "Can you explain that a little more?"

"I dunno."

"C'mon now, it ain't that hard."

I didn't know what to tell him, but his calm tone was comforting and pushed me to think of something. I just needed a minute to collect myself, so it wouldn't sound like nonsense.

Aunt Rita barged in before I got a chance. I hung my head and grasped fistfuls of the blankets. So much for a calm Steve; her presence would make him explode all over again.

She stared directly at me. "Has anyone ever told you how rude it is to listen in on other people's conversations?"

Yes, Steve, and multiple times. It was one of the main reasons he found me annoying. "You wouldn't let me talk to him," I offered as my excuse and took a deep breath.

"We can't always get what we want."

I looked down again and refused to look up. I knew I couldn't get what I wanted. Logically that made sense, but if I cared about logic, I wouldn't have missed Dad in the first place. "Why can't I talk to my own father?"

"Did you ever think that maybe I'd have let you if you hadn't been so rude about it?"

Again, she made perfect sense in her argument, but I didn't trust her enough to believe that would've happened. It sounded like something a normal parent would say to their child, and it always killed me how she tried to stick to these normal conventions when she was the craziest of everybody here. Dad at least knew he had faults, however numerous and upsetting they were, but he knew they existed and that had to count for something.

Steve sprang up and pulled me off the bed just as fast. "C'mon, Julia, let's go."

He pushed me forward, and as we neared her, I stuck close to him.

Aunt Rita grabbed at my arm. "I'm not done talking to her."

I jerked away, letting Steve step in front of me. "I wasn't done talking to her when you burst in." He clenched his fists but kept them at his sides. "I'd say that was pretty damn rude on your part. Don't you think?"

"You're not doing her any favors by sticking up for her bad behaviors, you know." Her voice was flustered and tired, like she could hardly catch her breath. "Before long, she'll turn out just like you. She already is."

"Good."

She shook her head. "It's important for a young woman to have manners."

"And old, too," he shot back. "Unless you think getting old gives you a hall pass to act like a bitch."

She clutched a hand over her chest. "Steven, I have never—"

"No, I get it," he went on. "Your tits sag, you get fat and wrinkled .You lose your hair, your mind, and finally all you got left is of your womanly charm is being a bitch."

She reached out and slapped him across the face. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

I gasped. _Please don't hit her back_, I thought, certain he could snap her bones.

"You honestly think that hurt me?" he asked with a smirk. It was false. I'd seen him cringe on the impact. He could easily withstand a slap from under normal conditions, but his face was still busted up from whatever he'd done earlier.

"Go right ahead and hit me again if it makes you feel better," he dared her. "Ain't gonna change a goddamned thing. She's smart enough to see through your bullshit."

"I could … I could have you arrested." Aunt Rita shook her finger at him. "I could have you kicked right out of this house and sent off to some reformatory. In fact, that's what I_ should _do."

That was it. I snapped. It happened fast, and I wasn't aware of what I was doing until my palm connected with her cheek.

I'd slapped her back. I slapped her on Steve's behalf.

My palm stung something fierce. I retracted it back to my side and backed away from her. My head floated around in haze that eventually grew into feeling faint.

She spouted off threats that she'd punish me severely, but I couldn't make out the exact words. I just swayed as I stood there, both proud and frustrated I'd hit her. At least some good came of it—the tears had come to a full stop, even throughout the horrible stuff she said to me. I paid little attention to it. Everything I saw and heard was blurred, and I wanted it that way, so I didn't fight it.

It was Steve's response to it that put me back to reality. "That's enough." He grabbed both my shoulders and pulled me to his side. "Don't talk to her like that."

He sounded more subdued than I'd expect. She slapped him and threatened to send him off somewhere and told me what an awful child I was. The Steve I knew would kill her. Maybe he thought the threat was real; it was the only way I could explain it.

"I've had it up to here with you two. It hasn't even been a week, and look at all the trouble you've caused." She struggled to catch her breath and sat down on the bed. She coughed and coughed to the point she could no longer scold us.

Steve slung an arm around me and led me out of the room. I thought that was it. We were just gonna walk away from it all and get no retribution. How could Steve possibly stand it?

We made it half way down the hallway when he pushed me to the wall and told me to stay put. He stormed back to Dad's room.

I chased after him, stopped right before the doorway, and listened.

"Steven, you oughta be ashamed of yourself… " She coughed a couple more times but sounded less weak. We'd worn her out but not enough her life was in any real danger. I took some comfort in that. The guilt would eat me alive later if I caused her a heart attack.

"Did you know Anne calls her stepmom Mom?"

I cringed, almost out of sympathy for her. That must've been her estranged daughter's name, and the way Steve said it sounded like he'd purposefully tailored his words to be the harshest possible.

"Don't you dare…" That was all I heard out of her except for labored breaths and groans.

"Julia already hates you," he told her. "If you fucked up so bad the first time, what made you think you'd get it right this time?"

"Steven..." She sounded near tears. "I've only tried to do what's best for you. I love you both…"

"Don't say that."

"I _do_."

I heard something shatter and ran into the room.

Aunt Rita was indeed crying, and there was a picture frame on the floor with the glass scattered around it. I assumed Steve punched it, but I didn't get a good enough look to see the full extent of the damage because the next thing I knew Steve was dragging me out of there again. "Steve, what the—"

"We're leaving," he told definitively and pointed at my room. "Grab whatever the hell you want now."

I stared at him wide-eyed, unsure where he was going with this. Leaving for the night? Leaving for how long exactly?

"Go." He shoved me closer to the door and stormed away.

I caught my balance and waited a couple seconds. I kept a close on Dad's room until Aunt Rita had slammed the door. She was isolating herself. She'd given up.

Steve was back in front me before I bothered to move. "You stand here the whole damn time?"

I sighed and ducked away into my room in case he got anymore irate. I grabbed my purse and a jacket, but that was all I could get my hands on before Steve's patience wore out.

"Let's go," he grumbled and drug me all the way out to his car.

"Steve, where are we going?" I demanded.

He didn't answer me.

All I heard was the roar of the engine as we drove away.

xxxx

My first guess was the Curtis's, but we'd long passed their house.

He drove and drove and drove until we reached a random location, same as this afternoon. He parked the car and pinched the bridge of his nose. His breathes were deep, and the way he stared at the floor scared me.

"Steve?"

"Shut up," he yelled.

"Steve, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he tore at me, ramming a fist against the dashboard.

I backed off. If he was willing to hit the interior of his car, he was pissed enough I shouldn't talk to him.

The silence was unbearable. I leaned against the window and clutched my stomach to calm my nerves. Out of fear I might see him cry, I avoided looking in his direction; he probably wouldn't, but the tension was high, and I didn't know. Maybe he would, and maybe was enough to alarm me. Christ, I couldn't handle seeing that.

Ten minutes must've passed before he finally spoke to me.

"I kinda wish Charlie'd get his ass home. I could at least hit him when he gets under my skin."

I turned to him. No tears. Thank God no tears, but his somber expression told me that was his way of saying he missed our father.

I turned away. His face was too much to take I . Somehow the moment had caused his bruises to stand out more. "What happened at that fight?" I asked him on impulse. I should leave the issue well alone, but perhaps he was exhausted enough to tell me, and it pained me to think that. It'd be such a bittersweet way to hear what I'd wanted to hear since last night, Still, it was the best I'd get, and if he was acting like this, I needed to know why.

He rubbed his forehead. "You know my friend Dallas?"

I swallowed and nodded. This was serious. I couldn't remember if I'd heard him speak his name or Johnny's since they died, and if anybody else did, he exploded the second the names left their mouths.

"He, uh… Well, let's just say he owed somebody a lot of money."

"Why?"

"Don't matter why," he grumbled.

I bit my lip and retreated. I couldn't upset him any more if I intended to hear this. Dallas was a sensitive topic.

"Anyway," he started again. "Me an' Soda ran into that asshole, the guy he owed, and that bastard started talking shit about Dallas…"

"So you punched him?" I guessed.

He glared at me.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, I did," he confirmed. "Got him real good too, but he ain't somebody you can just take down like that."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think?"

I wrung my hands and sighed. All the pieces fit together now. He'd pissed this guy off and now they were probably looking to get back at him. That was why he was talking to Tim—because he wanted to be a step ahead of whatever was going down.

Tears started to running down my cheeks. "How bad?"

"How bad what?"

I didn't know—how bad the situation was, how much I'd have to worry about him now.

"Dorry worry about me," he dismissed quickly. "Nothing's gonna happen."

He started the car again and pulled back into traffic.

My mind was too jumbled to think of anything to say him. The only thing I could say for certain was he was lying; maybe not about the whole thing, but he'd just given me a downplayed version of the truth.

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Please review! I know this is a little under the 3000 word threshold, but I promise the next will be longer and hopefully posted quicker. ;) Thanks once again for all the reviews! Without that amazing encouragement, I'd likely stop updating altogether with how ill I've been...


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